


Cold Hands, Warm Heart

by Ismene_Jane



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe-Warlocks, F/M, M/M, Warlocks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-12 16:36:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1192185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ismene_Jane/pseuds/Ismene_Jane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is the head of his little community of warlocks in Lawrence, Kansas. His protection stems from his special ability to create heat and his love for his family and friends.<br/>Now, his little brother is coming of age, his Familiar is annoying the shit out of him, and a fucking Shurley has moved onto his land.<br/>Fantastic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Heat of the Moment

**Author's Note:**

> So this world just kinda dropped into my head when I was on a trip to the Philippines... yeah I don't know either. They are warlocks, so there's magic. 
> 
> There are lots of things about this world that I'm still developing and there are a lot of questions that are going to pop up in the first few chapters. It's pretty filled out in my head, but I'm not giving you everything right away. I promise that everything will be explained eventually, but ask anything you want! I just might not answer. *Evil cackle*
> 
> That goes for pairings, too. Sam's gonna get a someone, but I'm not telling who just yet.
> 
> I, of course, don't own any single part of SPN. Unfortunately. Though I do believe that Cas and Dean want in each other's pants. 
> 
> Thanks to my amazing betas! I HAVE THREE OF THEM BECAUSE MY LIFE IS AWESOME. Pegasus_Eridana, LennaNightrunner, and letmegeekatyou.
> 
> Go read their fic, cause it's awesome! But, um, read this first. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!!!

Dean Winchester was having an abysmal Thursday. And it was only nine AM.

Maybe that was one of the reasons why it was so awful, but Dean wasn’t going to acknowledge the fact that his lack of ability to be a human being before noon might be a large part of why he was so upset. Not today. No, today he had damn good reason to be what Garth would call a “grumpykins”.

That guy, seriously.

Dean was sitting at the table in his kitchen, coffee in hand, slumped over a newspaper that was the cause of his ire. He was not grumpy, he was irate. Powerful warlocks didn’t do _grumpy_. They got _irate_. And usually the surrounding cities (and sometimes states) would have to deal with the consequences.

Dean’s fist came down on the table next to his coffee, splattering the newspaper with brown liquid and making Colonel, his Familiar, yelp from where he was lying down in his corner of the kitchen, in a manner most _un_ befitting a German Shepherd of his stature.

“Sorry, dude.” Dean mumbled from where his head was rested on the table, eyes blearily squinting at his very canine companion. And hadn’t that been a shock? Dean marveled a little every day that he had ended up with a damn _dog_ as a familiar. The first time Colonel had ridden in his beloved ’67 Impala, Baby, Dean had had to cut the ride short because he was having a full blown panic attack. Dogs. Christ. Who knew that his best friend and protector would be a mangy mutt who threatened to blow chunks in his Baby whenever Dean pissed him off?

“But, this is bad,” Dean continued, talking out loud to Colonel. “Like, I’m gonna have to _deal_ with this, kinda bad. Like, maybe even gonna have to call Sammy kinda bad.” He turned his head and groaned, facedown, for good measure.

Colonel simply eyed him with thinly veiled disdain, as if to say “Man up, bucko”, before he harrumphed loudly enough for it to be audible through their connection and walked over to the table, putting his head soothingly on Dean’s knee.

Dean let his fingers trail idly through Colonel’s fur (he would never admit how much better it always made him feel) while he contemplated his dilemma.

He’d known this was coming. Had felt the guy’s magic like an annoying prickle on his skin from the first moment he stepped foot on his territory. He’d just hoped the other warlock was passing through to somewhere, that he could leave it alone. But this had gone too far.

Dean didn’t have much in the way of territory; having carved out his little block of space when he came of age and thus came into the full extent of his powers. He had claimed the part of Lawrence, Kansas that included the university and his house/barn without any sort of fight. Good thing, too, as the barn was where he had his smith’s stable, and his house was where he led a discreet healing practice. Seemed that any and all douchey warlocks were uninterested in his little portion of the world, and after a life of following his dad around, hunting rogue warlocks, he couldn’t say he hated the peacefulness of his life.

He had his job, he had his Baby and his Familiar, and he was close enough to friends and family to be content. All of the warlocks that lived in his part of the world were people Dean had grown up with, or were other drifters who had become a part of his motley family. He ruled over his territory with an open hand instead of an iron fist and it had been the happiest four years of his life.

Until now.

Now he had a fucking Shurley to deal with.

As if the name wasn’t bad enough. Honestly, what kind of last name was “Shurley”, anyway? Surely, it had to be one of the girliest things Dean had ever heard.

Hah. Surely, Shurley. Dean cracked his first smile of the day, even though Colonel groaned at him through their connection at the terrible pun.

 _He may not be that bad._ Colonel had decided to open their connection far enough to let his thoughts enter Dean’s head, and the dog sounded annoyingly reasonable.

“Not that bad?” Dean spluttered, still face down on the table. “Not that BAD? Do you not remember the moral black hole that serves as the head of that family? Or maybe you’ve forgotten that this guy’s cousin killed Sammy’s Jess, my father, _and_ my mother?” Dean closed his eyes against that particular thought as it left his mouth, even after all these years.

 _Second cousin, once removed_ , Colonel reminded him, gently. _Azazel—may he be tortured in Hell until the end of time—was a complete psychopath that the last head of the Shurley family very publicly disowned. Many times over._ Colonel, sensing his master’s distress at this topic, nuzzled Dean’s hand open to lick at his palm.

Even with his eyes closed, Dean couldn’t block out the memories of that night. Though he had been but four years old when Azazel Roman had burned down his home in a mockery of the Winchester powers, he could still hear the sirens, smell the smoke, and feel his brother’s weight in his arms as he ran blindly from the house. He hadn’t known it at the time, but there was a protective shield in place around him and his brother as they fled. It was the first manifestation of his powers, one of the earliest of any warlock on record.

He was always able to be special when it came to protecting Sammy.

Azazel had lit the fire when he knew that Dean’s father, John, was out with Bobby Singer, his best friend. Had John been home, the fire could have been stopped, which was why Azazel’s crime was not just a knife in the back, but a knife that was then twisted and skewered as deep as it could go.

Every warlock had a special ability. Families’ abilities tended to be similar to one another, and each ability would fully manifest when the warlock came of age at twenty-three years old. A warlock’s twenty-third birthday was an incredible affair. Usually lasting all night, the friends and family of the warlock would make enchantments and revel in the moon’s light until the clock struck midnight and the warlock would suddenly have their individual ability and their Familiar.

Dean had to ignore the fact that this celebration was very “fairy-like”. He had to let go of his manliness once in a while, and cover himself with leaves and flowers and bask in the power of the night just like any good warlock. He wasn’t ashamed. And if he danced a little ridiculously, or really enjoyed being decked out in flowers, well, good luck to anyone who mentioned that in the light of day.

Usually the warlock would have some idea before that night how their powers would manifest. A special capability in one area or another would already have made itself known in the years of honing their magic and training their bodies to be perfect vessels for the use and control of that magic. No warlock’s magic was inherently good or evil, no matter what the books might say, and don’t even get Dean started on that wand shit. He wouldn’t be caught _dead_ waving some piece of wood around, spewing Latin or poetry.

What you would find him doing was channeling and using heat.

All of the Winchesters’ powers had something to do with the sun. John’s ability had been fire. He could start fires in the coldest, wettest, bleakest weather and stop a fire with a calm twitch of his finger. He could set an entire building ablaze with the same concentration it took to light a candle (John had always said that candles were harder, even. It took more focus to contain that energy than to unleash its power completely).

So Azazel’s betrayal had been personal. Planned. Evil. John’s own power used against him, killing his love and his happiness.

Dean shivered slightly, trying to draw himself out of his thoughts. He could feel Colonel’s distress at his master’s unhappiness and took a deep breath to steady himself. He raised the temperature in the room a couple degrees with a thought, even though he knew that he wasn’t cold because of the air. He did it to feel the magic sliding across his skin, grounding him in the here and now.

He knew that a lot of these thoughts were coming up because Sam’s birthday celebration was a few short hours away. His brother was going to become a fully mature warlock at midnight, and although Dean knew that nothing would go wrong, he couldn’t shake a sense of foreboding.

Perhaps the foreboding came from memories of his own horrible àrsadh caithris*, but Dean couldn’t think about that right now, it would be disastrous. So, instead, he decided that it probably came from the picture of the man in the paper that Dean’s head was currently plastered to. He lifted his forehead enough to look at the article for the twentieth time since that paper had arrived the day before.

**CLASSICS SCHOLAR CASTIEL SHURLEY TO BECOME FULL-TIME FACULTY MEMBER AT KU!**

That’s what it said. That’s what it had said yesterday when Dean had first read it, and apparently no amount of glowering, pouting, or full-on, hatred-filled staring was going to change it.

Castiel.

What the fuck kind of name was that, anyway?

And a Classics scholar? So the dude studied dead languages and old, cracked pottery for fun? Ugh. He probably even liked Philosophy, which was an unforgivable sin in Dean’s books. Why sit around, wondering why the universe exists instead of just living in the damn universe?

Dean eyed the picture again, and he couldn’t help but appreciate Cas’s face. The picture had him standing in front of the Classics building on the KU campus, smiling with some of the other professors. The man was hot, that was clear enough. Mussed black hair, a beautiful smile, and eyes that seemed to twinkle even in the black and white newspaper picture.

He tried to imagine what their upcoming confrontation would be like; how he’d have to get all master-warlock on the dude’s ass and maybe even kill him. It saddened Dean, which surprised him. He felt drawn to this man that he hadn’t even met, and Castiel Shurley could turn out to be an enemy of the worst kind. Dean tried to hold on to the picture of hurting the Shurley in order to protect his family, but he couldn’t help staring again and again at the man’s eyes.

Dean could imagine himself falling into those eyes, thinking about kissing those beautiful lips that were just round enough without being overly feminine. He imagined what his skin would taste like, what his special ability was, how Dean could heat them both from the inside until they burned together while Dean slid into Castiel’s willing bod-

 _HEY!_ Colonel’s voice broke Dean’s reverie, and his head snapped back fast enough to give him whiplash. _Come on, buddy! Bad enough when I have to smell it on you when you decide to have sex, can you_ not _think about doing the nasty with the Shurley boy?_ Colonel’s voice was dripping with annoyance, and he had retreated to the next room without Dean noticing.

“Right,” Dean said, shame coloring his tone as well as his cheeks. “Sorry ’bout that.” He ran a hand down the back of his neck in an uncomfortable gesture, ducking his head while trying to force the blush away. “It’s just, y’know, been a while, dude.” He walked through the living room into the bathroom, but he could still hear Colonel’s voice in his head.

 _I know,_ his Familiar said with some pity. _But…_ Colonel might not be a human being, but damn if he didn’t do hesitation and guilt like one. _But didn’t we pretty much swear off guys after…_ But before he could go on, Dean slammed the connection between them closed, ignoring the loud whine he could hear through the bathroom door. Not today. Not that. He’d had enough reminiscing about shit that made him tear up (in a manly way), thank you very fucking much. No thinking about that open wound, and no thinking about his own twenty-third birthday. Nope.

He splashed some cold water on his face, liking the way it felt even if it was unnecessary. He could cool his body temperature off without any help, but the water was a nice shock to his system. He hung his head over the sink, hands braced on the porcelain, and talked himself down.

His boyfriend was dead. Azazel was too. Sammy, too, had been through hell, but Dean was going to ensure that this party went off without a hitch. He had the site in the Clinton State Park all rented out, Ellen and Jo were in charge of decorations, Rufus and Bobby were in charge of the music, Garth would be making sure no scary animals interfered, and all of Sam’s magically-inclined friends and family had been invited.

Dean lifted his head and stared in the mirror. His magenta-flecked emerald eyes stared back at him. There was more magenta than the normal flecks here and there that colored his eyes most of the time, but his eyes were still mostly green, as he was mostly just trying to contain his magic so that he didn’t raise the temperature in Lawrence by ten degrees. He couldn’t help but smile as he thought about what color Sam’s eyes would turn that night. Dean’s money was on gold, as his little brother’s magic would surely be strongest with using light in some way. Sammy had always shone, even when he was at his darkest.

Dean shook all of those thoughts from his head, drawing strength from the magic running through his veins and the evidence of it in his eyes. He could do this. His brother would turn twenty-three and he would be fine. Dean would be there if anything went wrong. He just had to get through today first.

Oh, and visit one Castiel Shurley, and challenge him for rights to his territory. That too. Tiny, insignificant, pointless little detail.

Dean groaned and opened his connection to Colonel back up to send this one thought:

_Shoot me._

Colonel rumbled his voice in sympathy.


	2. Stiff Upper Lip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sammy stops by and is his normal, annoying, self. 
> 
> A meltdown ensues. 
> 
> Cause Sammy's a bitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed or offered Kudos!!! I'm having so much fun writing this fic, it's kinda ridiculous.
> 
> Thanks, as always, to my three betas: Pegasus_Eridana, lennanightrunner, and letmegeekatyou! Go read their stuff, it's excellent.
> 
> I'm still developing this world, so if you have questions or suggestions, please let me know. I'll be updating on Mondays, barring any real tragedies or real-life interruptions. 
> 
> Thanks thanks for reading!!!

Dean was still leaning his head against the mirror, trying to drown out the world, when his doorbell rang. It snapped him back into reality and he immediately felt the calming presence of his brother at the door. He shook his head, realizing that he must have been truly lost to the world for Sammy to be able to sneak up on him.

Normally his magic alerted him to anyone’s presence on his front doorstep, particularly Sammy’s (albeit still faint) magical signature. Dean normally greeted his younger brother with an open door and one of many wonderful pranks (his favorite being the time he had levitated hair dye over the threshold. Sammy’d had to suffer through two solid months with slightly pink hair). Dean groaned when he thought of just how insufferable Sammy was gonna be, surely having figured out something was up when the door was closed and Dean was clearly inside.

 _Better get out here_ , Colonel mused, _before your moose of a brother breaks the damn door down._

 _As if you don’t love him,_ Dean quipped back, opening the bathroom door to playfully swat his Familiar out of the way. _I can hear all the noises you make when he rubs your belly. Really, man, it’s kinda gross._

Colonel nipped at Dean’s ankles at that comment, and Dean was still laughing at the dog’s grumblings when he opened the door for his brother.

He could joke all he wanted, but the truth was that Colonel was right; Sammy really was a moose of a man. Although Dean had heard at some point that moose were mean, spiteful creatures who caused more deaths per year than sharks. And that was _definitely_ not his Sammy.

His Sammy, who was currently standing on his doorstep with his concerned puppy-dog face widening his normally slanted eyes and making Dean roll his in return.

“Shut up, bitch, I was in the bathroom. Get your ass in here.” He knew that Sam wouldn’t buy it, but it was worth a shot.

“How long were you in there?” Called it. Sam’s voice was laced with concern, and Dean groaned inwardly, ignoring Colonel’s huff of laughter. “I called you, like, three times. And texted you. And I know you can feel it when I’m close by.”

“Jesus, Samantha, would you calm the hell down? Can’t a guy take a shit in peace?”

_You are the worst liar._

_Can it, mutt, or I’m putting you outside._

Colonel started whining piteously, and snaked himself around Sam’s legs until the predictable sap knelt down and started scratching his ears.

“What did you say to him?” Sam asked, bitch face number three sliding into place.

“Nothin’,” Dean retorted, glaring at his Familiar. _Traitor_ , he aimed at Colonel. “He’s just being a whiny bitch today.” Sam looked at him skeptically, while Colonel gave Dean his best smug look and began making some truly obscene noises.

 _Ugh. Gross, dude_. Dean decided to close with that quip as he slammed their connection shut. Colonel barked, loudly, startling Sam out of his skepticism and straight into bitch face number twelve.

Ah, Christ. Dean really hated number twelve.

“Seriously, Dean. I know today can’t be easy for you. I just wanted to come by and see if you needed to talk or anything.” This is why. This is why bitch face number twelve sucked so hard. Cause it was always followed by some attempt at goddamned feelings talk. Let’s talk about our fucking feelings. Dean patted his hands down his front, until they connected with his crotch.

“Nope, haven’t grown a vagina. Guess the talking can wait for another day, bitch.” He smirked at Sammy, who rolled his eyes.

“Jerk. _Why_ you have to be such a jerk?” Sam stood up from where he was petting Colonel, who let out a whine of protest. He crossed his arms over his chest, and Dean fought back a grimace.

He knew his baby brother meant well, he did. But there were some things that Dean just had to deal with, and this wasn’t Sam’s burden to bear. It was the day of his [àrsadh](http://www2.smo.uhi.ac.uk/gaidhlig/faclair/sbg/lorg.php?facal=%C3%A0rsadh&seorsa=Gaidhlig&tairg=Lorg&eis_saor=on) caithris, the most important night of his life, and Dean wasn’t gonna ruin it with his fucking _feelings._

“I dunno, man, must be in the DNA.” Sammy sighed in frustration but relaxed, seeming to realize that he wasn’t going to get anything out of Dean.

“Alright dude, I’ll leave it.” He pointed at Dean, one arm still crossing his chest. “But if you need anything tonight, you fucking tell me, okay?”

“Christ, Sammy,” Dean said, shouldering past his giant little brother into the kitchen. “Give it a rest. I’m _fine.”_ Colonel barked abruptly, following Dean into the kitchen and nipping his heels once again.

“You’re not. You’re not _fine_.” Ugh, why did all the Winchesters have to be so damn stubborn? Dean knew he was included, but he would swear that he was never this annoying about it. This was so not happening.

“You,” he said, pointing at Sam, “drop it. I’m your big brother and head of this family and head warlock in this territory, and I can handle my baby sister’s goddamned [àrsadh](http://www2.smo.uhi.ac.uk/gaidhlig/faclair/sbg/lorg.php?facal=%C3%A0rsadh&seorsa=Gaidhlig&tairg=Lorg&eis_saor=on) caithris. We clear?

“And you,” he said, turning on the Colonel, “you remember who feeds you and keep your whining and huffing to yourself. Got it?” Colonel sat on his haunches and gave his best death glare, while Sammy had ratcheted his bitch face down to number two.

Dean loved number two, because number two meant I’m-so-done-with-this-and-I-can’t-believe-I-have-such-a-neanderthal-for-a-brother. Number two meant that Dean had _won_.

Sam’s expressive facial gestures were super helpful. Always.

“Everybody got it?” he repeated, for good measure. “Good. Then we’re done here. Unless you want to stay and have some coffee before your class?” Sam let out an exasperated sigh, threw his hands up and settled into one of Dean’s kitchen chairs.

“Why not?” he said, smiling. And seriously? That right there was what Dean loved about his brother. He could go from bitch to awesome in less than a second. Dean poured him a cup.

“Uh, Dean?” came Sammy’s voice from the table. That couldn’t be good. “Why do you still have yesterday’s paper on…” Sam trailed off and Dean turned around to see him staring at the article that was on Dean’s kitchen table, right where he’d (stupidly) left it. Dean felt his magic threaten at his skin, and he tamped it down. He would not freak Sammy out, not today. His baby brother was going to have the best damned àrsadh caithris in the history of magical doohickeys and no Shurley was gonna fuck it up.

The blood had drained out of Sam’s face when he whipped around to find Dean’s eyes. Dean sent some of his magic out to soothe Sammy, almost without thinking, and he clasped Sam’s shoulder hard to strengthen that connection.

“A… a… Shurley?”

“Sam.”

“There’s a Shurley? Here?”

“Sam.”

Sam flung his hand out wildly, coming to rest (painfully) on top of Dean’s own. “Dean. Jess. I… Jesus. I can’t… He can’t…”

“SAM!” Dean brought his other hand down on Sam’s other shoulder and stared hard into his brother’s wild eyes. “It’s okay. I’m gonna go talk to him, and it’s gonna be okay. I won’t let anyone hurt you, okay? You’re safe. It’s not that yellow-eyed bastard. You’re _safe_ , you hear me?” He let the magic reach out and warm Sam’s blood to a comforting level, and slowed his breathing. He connected with Sammy’s heart and slowed it, as he had done so many times since that first time, sitting in the back of an ambulance twenty-two and a half years prior. He hadn’t known what the hell he was doing, but all he could think was protect Sammy, protect Sammy.

That was still his number one priority.

“Dean.” Sam’s breathing was slowing down, along with his heart. Dean’s grip never let up, even when Sam squeezed his eyes tight and tears began leaking out around the edges. “I can still see him, sometimes. See his face as he killed dad, and then when you…” Sam opened his eyes and stared through Dean, clearly seeing something that had happened long ago.

“I still dream about him,” he whispered, pain etched deep in every syllable. “I know he’s gone, but I can’t help but think that if _your_ àrsadh caithris went that way… what’s gonna happen at mine?” Dean squeezed Sammy’s shoulders until he dragged his gaze back to Dean’s.

“Now you listen to me, Sammy,” he said, each word weighted as if by stone. “ _Nothing_ is gonna happen tonight, okay? What happened to me,” he choked back the pain without a thought. This wasn’t about him, it was about Sammy. Dean would protect Sammy, even from his own hurt. “It ain’t gonna happen to you, not no way, not no how. I’m gonna march my ass down to that Dr. Shurley’s office and I’m gonna find out what he’s doing here, and if I think for one _second_ that he’s a threat, I will _end_ him. Nothin’s gonna get to you tonight, not on my watch. Okay?” The tears had stopped, and Sam’s eyes were red as he smiled wetly at Dean.

“Okay, Dean. Thanks.” Dean took a quick assessment of Sam’s vitals and nodded, once, before stepping back to the coffee machine.

“Good. Glad we’re done with _feelings_ time.” He let every bit of sarcasm he had in his possession into the word. “I wouldn’t be surprised if your eyes turned pink tonight.” Sam barked out a laugh and Dean smiled as he opened the refrigerator for milk.

“Says purple-eyes over here.”

“Fuck you,” Dean said amiably, happy that Sam was back to his normal douchewad, self. “You’re just pissed ’cause you know your power won’t be as awesome as mine.” He sat down across from Sam and handed his brother his coffee, doctored just the way he liked it (three sugars and milk, like a girl).

“We’ll see,” Sam smirked up at him, taking a sip of his coffee. “I’m mostly just excited to see you with a crown of basket flowers and Indian blankets*, dancing around a fire.” Amusement twinkled in his hazel eyes. Dean would never admit it, even under pain of death, but he really was unbelievably stoked to see what color would fleck those irises tonight.

He was a big fat sap when it came to Sammy, but no one had to know that. And he would deny it ’til he was the color of his magic. Especially when Sammy was breaking rules.

“We have a pact!” Dean said, firmly, not at all squealing like a little girl. “No mentioning or-”

“I know,” Sam interrupted, and he said the cardinal rule with Dean. “No mentioning or alluding to or anything else verbally incriminating involving Dean’s behavior at an àrsadh caithris outside of said àrsadh caithris upon pain of Dean melting one of your nuts off.” They finished together and Dean banged his hand on the table for the second time that morning, earning another indignant yelp from Colonel.

“Damn right! So if you wanna keep both your balls, you shut the hell up.” Sam nodded his head deferentially, but with a smug grin on his face. Bastard. Dean could feel Colonel poking at their connection, and opened it back up.

 _It’s not his fault you like being a pretty pretty princess._ And promptly slammed it shut again. Correction, _bastards._

Dean and Sam finished their coffee in comfortable silence; interrupted only by the occasional chuckle from Sam and the very loud silence with which Dean met it. Eventually, Colonel came over and laid his head on Dean’s knee in apology. Dean bumped him on the nose once, to show that he was still annoyed, before letting his hands drift through his fur again.

Dean truly loved this. His brother at the table with him, safe, where Dean could keep both his eyes on him; his Familiar’s head on his knee and a cup o’ joe in his hand.

So, maybe not such an abysmal Thursday after all.

When Sam had finished his coffee and was getting ready to head out, Dean pulled him back from the front door into a rare hug.

“Proud o’ you, Sammy.” He said, gruffly, almost too low to be counted as words.

“Glad you’re here, Dean. I love you.” Sam squeezed him tight. Goddamn his brother was strong. When did that happen? When did Sam get to be bigger than Dean? It never ceased to amaze him.

“Yeah, whatever.” He said, releasing Sam and pushing him across the threshold. “Get outta my house ya giant dumbass. I’ve got a party to put together and a Shurley to interrogate.” Dean regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth, because they put that worried puppy-dog look back on Sammy’s face.

“You want me to go with you? As back-up?” Dean rolled his eyes in derision even as his heart swelled a bit in pride. Sammy really was the greatest thing.

“What’re you gonna do? Give him puppy-dog eyes until he dies of uncomfortableness?” Sam’s gaze turned pissy. “I got this, you go to your lawyering class and stay away from the Shurley, got it?” He knew that Sam would see the question for the order that it was. And they both knew that Dean would be able to feel it if Sam went against his orders.

“Yeah, purple-eyes, I got it.” Sam turned and walked down his walkway, and Dean was sad to see him go. Moose or not, he loved his idiot of a brother.

“Bitch.” Not that he’d ever say it.

“Jerk.” He smiled, knowing Sam knew anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews and kudos are awesome, just like you. 
> 
> *Basket flowers and Indian Blankets are two kinds of flowers that are indigenous to Kansas.  
> -Basket flowers (Centaurea americana) are a native flowering plant that range between 1 ½ and 5 feet tall. The 4- to 5-inch flower heads bloom in shades of white and pink with cream-colored centers. The blooms on this native Kansas flower produce a sweet, honey-like scent. Basket flowers bloom during May and June.  
> -Indian blanket (Gaillardia purcell) is an annual plant indigenous to Kansas. They grow to a height of 2 feet. The 1- to 2-inch flower heads are red at the base and become yellow or orange along the edges. The centers of the flowers are brownish red. Indian blanket self sows through seed. The plant blooms from May until August.
> 
> For more information, visit http://www.ehow.com/list_6188031_native-kansas-flowering-plants.html


	3. Thunderstruck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean grows a spine and goes to talk to the Shurley.
> 
> Things don't go according to plan (or, they wouldn't have, if Dean had come in with any kind of plan in the first place).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THEY FINALLY MEET EACH OTHER. 
> 
> Special thanks, as always, to my amazing Betas. Go read their fics!! Right after you finish this monster of a chapter. 
> 
> Yeeeaaaaah, it's kinda long. 
> 
> Thanks also to those who have reviewed, bookmarked, or left kudos!! Seriously, you guys, that shit makes my DAY. 
> 
> Next chapter is Sammy's party! As always, let me know if you have questions/suggestions. :D

By two PM, Dean couldn’t in good conscience put it off any longer. He had to go talk to Castiel Shurley before he reported for duty at Ellen’s bar, The Roadhouse, at four PM. He had to help her haul decorations and food out to the site of Sammy’s àrsadh caithris before the sun even started threatening to set.

The party would officially begin at 8:15 PM, which was the scheduled time for sundown, but guests would begin coming as early as 7:00. Everything had to be ready, including the raised temperature of the wooded area. Though it was almost eighty degrees this afternoon, Dean knew it would be getting down to the forties that night. So Dean had to heat the party site and keep it heated for the four hours after sunset.

He’d taken a nap earlier that afternoon; he’d be just fine.

Dean shrugged into his worn leather jacket and finished lacing up his customary leather hiking boots, loving the squeak of the leather as he stood up from his crouch by the door. Once he was fully upright, he felt a nudge in the back of his knees and heard a very familiar “humph” from his Familiar.

Heh, familiar, Familiar. Dean cracked himself up.

 _Yeah, you’re a regular Groucho Marx,_ Colonel grumbled from behind him. Dean dropped to one knee so he could be at eye level with the German Shepherd.

“Shut up, dude,” he said, even as he pressed his forehead against Colonel’s much furrier one. “I’ve gotta take it where I can get it today. And I’m a very powerful warlock. Don’t you forget it.”

Colonel snorted both out loud as a dog and very human-like in Dean’s mind.

 _Alright, Princess Warlock,_ he said sardonically. _You need me to get your dresses in order for the ball tonight? Or are you going to find_ your _balls sometime before then?_ Dean snorted a laugh, before flicking his Familiar on the ear. Colonel pulled back with an indignant _jackass_ , and Dean mollified him by stroking behind his ears. 

Colonel grumbled, but nosed at Dean’s face until Dean pressed his forehead back against the dog’s own. Dean took a deep, calming breath, letting himself draw strength from his Familiar.

“Fuck you, man.” He said, good-naturedly. He felt the magic growing stronger beneath his skin with the added energy from Colonel. He felt his muscles relax, and he felt ready to face this Castiel character.

 _I could come with you,_ Colonel offered, not for the first time.

“Nah, man,” Dean replied, shaking his head and standing up. “They wouldn’t let you onto the campus. And anyway,” he shrugged, unlocking the door, “I can do this on my own.”

 _Damn straight, you can_. The Colonel stared at him, and Dean swore that the dog raised an eyebrow in challenge. _Now stop being a goddamned bumbling idiot and go talk to the man. There’s a_ reason _that I did not attach myself to Hugh Grant for chrissakes._

Dean laughed out loud this time, ruffling his dog’s fur before opening the door.

“Alright, cranky,” he said, smiling wide. “I’ll be back soon, hopefully. If not, I’ll pick you up before the party starts.”

As he turned to close the door he heard, _You better, Princess. I’ll be here, watching Notting Hill._

Dean laughed out loud again. God, he really loved his Familiar. Wet dog smell and all.

 

Dean drove his Baby through the streets of Lawrence, and drew strength from that action as well. He always felt incredibly at home behind the wheel, blasting what his best (and only) non-magical friend Charlie called “Cock Rock.” Today it was Black Sabbath, because he desperately needed that angry music to fuel his upcoming confrontation.

Dean actually was not a huge fan of confrontation. Sure, he and Sammy had little spats all the time, and the few times he’d needed to defend his territory or family, he’d had no problems. But he didn’t like having to be the mean guy. Especially when he had no idea of how the person he’d be yelling at would react.

Honestly, Colonel was right. Castiel Shurley hadn’t actually _done_ anything as of yet. He had kept to himself, and any bursts of magic that Dean had felt over the last two weeks or so (alright, thirteen days, but he’d never admit to having counted) had seemed pretty harmless. But he didn’t know if that was a trap.

The Shurley family had done worse; Dean was a testament to that fact.

Dean shuddered for what seemed like the millionth time that day and tried to shove those thoughts back into the locked, sealed, hexed box in the corner of his mind where he kept all memories from the horrors of his past. He parked on the side of the road in front of the Classics Department, and put his forehead against the wheel, trying to calm his anger and panic to a manageable level.

He could feel his magic threatening to rise to the surface, and felt the car get a few degrees warmer. He felt the old rage and the devastation that it had caused, the helplessness, creep into his heart. He needed to make sure that he didn’t do something stupid. One more thing that he’d regret.

He already had enough regrets. Enough on his conscience.

He was going to confront Castiel, not kill him over old angers that he’d had no hand in personally. Well… Dean was going to talk first, murder later, if necessary. So he had to have his magic under control.

He wished, briefly, that he had taken Colonel with him. This would be a lot easier with the dog’s healing presence and if he could feed some of this emotion through their bond for the Colonel to shoulder. He could still manage it a bit over the distance back to his house, but it would be much more powerful if his friend was right there.

Then he told his mind to stop being a pansy-ass, suck it up, and get it under control.

He was an incredibly powerful warlock, he reminded himself, and he would be fine. He took deep breaths to steady himself until he felt the heat in the car abate, and felt the usual strong control he had over his magic settle back into place.

Alright, Winchester, get your ass in there.

Dean got out of the car and made his way into the building, all the while mumbling “you are a powerful warlock you are an incredibly powerful warlock you are the _most_ powerful warlock” and trying not to imagine the Colonel calling him a “Princess” for it. Didn’t work. But the mantra seemed to help.

He reached the elevators and took them up to the third floor, trying and failing to keep himself from making it hotter wherever he went. He did, however, manage to not bang his head repeatedly into the elevator walls in a fit of despair. He decided to count the whole three minute trip as a win.

Too soon, Dean was standing in front of an office door where the nameplate read “Dr. Castiel Novak, PhD”. For the first time since this began with the paper arriving yesterday, he stopped feeling panicked long enough to feel absolute confusion.

Novak? Who the hell was Castiel Novak? And was it possible that there were two Castiels working in this department? No, this had to be him. It had to be. But why the name change? What the _hell_ was going on here? He really, truly, _hated_ not having all the facts. He felt, suddenly, that he was at a serious disadvantage.

As he puzzled it out, hands on hips, staring pointlessly at the nameplate as if it held all the answers to the universe, he completely missed the sound of a door opening directly to his left.

At the sound of a throat clearing, Dean tried not to yelp like a little girl as he jumped out of his skin. He immediately flushed a deep crimson when he realized how ridiculous he probably looked to the man suddenly standing before him.

And good lord, what a man.

If he had been attractive in black and white, he was even more delicious in person.

Jesus, did he just think that? Dean Winchester did not refer to people as delicious. Christ. He felt his blush get a little deeper and realized his skin might be as purple as the flecks in his eyes by now.

But he couldn’t stop looking at (okay, fine, _ogling_ ) Castiel… whatever his last name was.

His eyes were the brightest blue that Dean had ever seen, and that was seriously saying something. They were flecked with a grey the shade of polished iron, and they were… captivating. That was the word. Captivating. Dean took a deep breath and instantly regretted it as it meant that he could now _smell_ Castiel.

He smelled like clean air, crisp, bright and beautiful. Dean knew that smell from when he had been out in the forest after a spring rain. The scent made him feel alive, rejuvenated, and Dean couldn’t get enough.

He wanted to put his nose in this man’s neck and inhale that scent right into his bones. He wanted to put his hands on the broad shoulders in front of him, sliding them up to the even-messier-in-real-life black mop of hair when he slid his mouth up to meet those perfect lips… He wanted. God, how he wanted.

“Um… Excuse me,” Dean was thrown back into the here and now with words spoken in a voice that seemed to have crawled out of the bottom of a broken whiskey bottle, and he realized that he had moved forward so that he was a mere inch or two from the man in front of him. He pulled his eyes back up to meet the other man’s and thought he saw a flicker of surprise and awe there before Castiel seemed to settle on amusement. “Mr. Winchester, I presume?” He cocked an eyebrow, and Dean stepped back almost violently, trying to save face after probably coming off like a Charlie-dubbed “fangirl.”

He was supposed to be here to confront the man, interrogate him, and he had just given up any element of control and power that he may have walked in possessing. Perfect. He cleared his throat and tried desperately to save some face. What was going on here? He was never this out of control. Not ever.

“Uh, yeah.” Smooth, Winchester. Real smooth. Ten points for suavity. He mentally face-palmed, cleared his throat, and tried again. “Dean Winchester. We have to talk.” Better. That was better.

“Of course,” Castiel responded in his gravelly sex-voice, stepping aside. “Come in. I have been expecting your visit.”

Dean walked into the office, reclaiming his lost control. He sent out a wisp of his magic to for any danger in the room, but all he felt was calm. The peacefulness settled into his skin and made him want to get closer to its source… He closed his eyes against that thought. This was ridiculous. He was not a teenager, he could handle spending some time with a sex-god.

He mentally face-palmed again. Only just managing to not physically repeat the action. Get a grip Winchester. You are a powerful warlock, not a moon-eyed teenage girl.

He took a deep breath and turned around to face Castiel, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Alright, Mr. Shurley,” he said with his best “I mean business” voice. “What are you do-“

“It’s Novak, actually,” Castiel interrupted, calmly. “Castiel Novak. I had my name legally changed as soon as I moved here. You may call me Dr. Novak, but I would prefer that you refer to me as Castiel.” He smiled at Dean, and Dean felt his resolve wilting under the force of that smile and his own feeling of curiosity. His eyebrows furrowed, and his stance became less confrontational. He tried to remind himself that he still needed to be on his guard, but felt it slipping away.

“You changed your name.” Oh _great_ , now he was a parrot.

Castiel smiled again, this time moving to sit at his unbelievably tidy desk. “I did,” he said. “It seemed prudent after I denounced the head of my family and moved to another warlock’s territory.” He indicated the chair across from him as Dean’s mind whirred with this influx of new information. “Please,” he said. “Sit.”

Dean moved into the chair almost without realizing it. He didn’t know what to think, or what to feel. All of the panic, the worries, the fears from the last twenty-four hours seeping away and leaving in their wake a strong sense of confusion as well as exhaustion.

“Okay…” he said, attempting to get one of the questions circling his brain to the surface. “So you’re _not_ here to kill me, or my family, then?”

Oh for the- he could just _hear_ the Colonel’s snort of derision, “ _Well,_ hey _there, Mr. Grant.”_

Castiel smiled again, wider this time. Dean decided that he could be a bumbling idiot if it got him smiles like that.

“No, Mr. Winchester. I am not. I moved here to…” Castiel looked down, and he looked uncomfortable for the first time since Dean had arrived. “To… Well… Escape my family, I suppose.” His smile turned sheepish, and Dean tried, valiantly, not to think it was the cutest thing he had ever seen.

“Okay…” he said again, processing. “So why didn’t you come tell me this the moment you set foot on my little part of the world?”

Castiel grew even more sheepish, at that. “Honestly?” Dean nodded. “I knew some of the history that you have with my family and decided, based on that information that I should let you come to me. I did not want you to think that I was here to challenge you, and I thought the best way to convince you of that fact was to… um… I think ‘lay low’ is what you would say?” He cocked his head to the side in a very-Colonel-like manner, and Dean found it both endearing and disturbing.

He didn’t want Castiel Sexy, PhD to remind him of his Familiar. Gross.

“Yeah, Cas,” he responded, finally turning on the patented Dean Winchester charm. “That’s what you would say. Have you been living under a rock?” He was rewarded for his snark with another beautiful smile.

“Cas?” Castiel asked, tilting his head even further to the left.

Aaaaand the blush was back. Oh good. Deep breaths, Winchester. You’re a powerful warlock, not a tomato.

“Uh, yeah?” Dean rubbed the back of his neck while trying to will the blood away from his cheeks. “Castiel is a mouthful, dude.” He gave a tentative half-smile. “That okay?”

Castiel kept his head-tilt and considered, staring at Dean with an intensity that he wasn’t used to. He tried not to squirm in his seat.

“I believe it is,” he finally said, a hint of surprise coloring his tone. “I am not overly fond of nicknames. My brother, Gabriel, has a penchant for creating ever-more annoying ones. However, I… like that one. From you.” He smiled again and Dean felt his traitorous insides turning to jelly. “To answer your question,” Cas continued. “My family was… _is_ very conservative, all the more so after my father passed away. I believe it would be comparable to living under a large stone.”

Dean smiled again. This Cas dude was weird. Definitely weird. But he found that he enjoyed it, liking the strange way the man talked almost as much as the decidedly less-strange-more-sexy way he looked.

“So is that why you left?” Dean asked, still needing answers. “Not enough pop-culture?” Cas turned his head away to the side, considering his built-in bookshelf on the wall. Dean saw a deep sadness settle over his features and immediately felt bad at being the one to put that look on his handsome face.

God, he was turning into a romance novel.

“I’m sorry, man,” he said. “But I kinda need to know.” Cas didn’t turn his head and Dean felt even worse. “I mean, you actually seem like a really good guy, but I don’t exactly have the best history with your family. And I need to know why you’re here in case it puts my family in danger.”

“No,” Cas responded, not taking his eyes from the bookshelf next to him. “I understand. I knew that in coming here I would have to explain myself, and ask for your assistance. Your aid. Your… protection.” He finally looked Dean in the eyes and Dean felt that intensity again, but it was tempered with a clear apology written on his face. Dean felt a surge of protectiveness at the look.

“If you need protection from that bastard you call a brother,” he said with conviction, “you have it.” Cas relaxed slightly and Dean added: “But you have to tell me what happened. So I know what I’m getting into.”

“I don’t call him a brother,” Cas said, getting that faraway look in his eyes once again as he turned his gaze back to the bookshelf. “Not anymore.” He closed his eyes and Dean made a sound of encouragement and then waited. Knowing that this couldn’t be easy.

“You sound as if you are very protective of your family,” Cas continued, looking back to Dean for confirmation. Dean nodded, that one was easy.

“Yup,” he said, thinking of Sammy and letting that bring a smile to his face. “Most important thing.”

“You would die for them.” The stare was back. The one that felt like it was looking deep into his soul. Weird. But not necessarily bad.

The question made Dean uncomfortable. He didn’t like talking about himself, particularly when there were thinly-veiled compliments involved. So he stayed silent, meeting Cas’s gaze as calmly as he could. Cas considered him a while longer before nodding, giving the impression that he had found whatever it was he was looking for.

“Then you understand how hard it is for me to separate myself from my brethren. How it has been a ripping of my soul, a rending of what makes me whole.” He lifted his gaze to Dean’s once again, the iron in his eyes spreading a bit until it circled the blue in his irises. “But after what Michael did,” and Dean, god help him, couldn’t help flinching at the name. “I had little choice.”

Images rose unbidden and suddenly to Dean’s mind. He tried to fight them, but he couldn’t. He saw a stubbled cheek and ice-blue eyes with flecks of crimson that were always glittering with amusement. He heard a hearty laugh, his name being crooned in a loving voice. Ghost arms wrapped themselves around his waist and he could almost feel him there, feel his warmth, his love. Ah, god. So much love.

He closed his eyes against the torrent, feeling the tears threatening at the memories. His heart gave a lurch at the remembered love, and the following loss. It still hurt. Still. After all this time.

“I’m sorry,” Cas’s voice once again broke through his pain-soaked memories. Dean looked up to see that his eyes were once again mostly blue, narrowed in concern for him. “I did not mean to cause you anguish.” Dean pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, forcing the tears back down, forcing the memories back into their box.

“It’s alright, man,” he said, proud of how his voice barely wavered. He knew when they opened his eyes again they would be more purple than green. His magic was soothing him, and it was working hard. “Just tell me what the bastard did this time.” He waited for Cas to ask about his experience, hoping that the other man would let it drop. He felt utterly disoriented. He never lost control like this, _never_. Especially not in front of people, much less strangers. Why was this man having such an effect on him?

After a few tense seconds of Dean refusing to open his eyes and feeling Cas stare straight through him, Cas seemed to sense his dismissal of the topic and returned to his own story.

“Choosing between brothers is never easy. But it becomes easier when one is clearly a deranged megalomaniac and has tried very hard to kill the other.” Dean finally opened his eyes to see Cas had closed his own. The pain etched deep on his face.

“Which brother?”

“Nikola. My brother Nic.” Cas took a deep breath, and Dean tried not to stare at how he managed to be so handsome, even in so much pain. “And my brother Gabriel, who almost died in saving Nic’s life. You see,” he opened his eyes, pinning Dean with his gaze. “Michael and Nic are twins, though Michael was born first and he would never let Nic forget it. They are, however, fraternal twins, and Michael took after my mother, Naomi, while Nic took after my father, Charles.

“Father was…” Cas smiled to himself. “Father was a loving man. Caring. Quick to help others and always willing to share his knowledge and warmth. Mother…” And Cas’s face darkened once again, taking Dean aback with the force of the anger there. The way his emotions were written on his face. “Mother was manipulative and angry. She had married Father for reasons that no one could ever parse out, and clearly regretted the decision. Those of us who took after my father in looks, temperament, or abilities were treated with thinly-veiled disdain for most of our lives. It was… painful.”

Dean couldn’t help but feel that that was a massive understatement. He had only known his mother for the first four years of his life, but he could still imagine how hard it would have been had she not liked him or Sammy. His memories of her were sun-dappled and warm. How awful for Cas.

 He leaned forward both physically in his chair and with his magic, letting it reach out to Cas to offer comfort. Cas’s eyes widened as he felt it, clearly surprised, but then he smiled wide yet again. Dean felt an answering smile light his face, resisting the urge to reach out with his hands as well.

Don’t do that, he reminded himself. That would be weird.

“Michael was always Mother’s golden child,” Cas sighed, allowing his bitterness and anger to show through. “She doted on him and he loved every second of it. He would pit the rest of us against each other for his own amusement. He loved to sow discord, as it would put him on top every single time. It was bad enough when we were young—even I felt it and I was the youngest—but once he had his nýchta i̱likía rolói… well… it became unbearable.” The words rolled off of Cas’s tongue in his liquor-soaked gravel voice and Dean was completely entranced.

“Uh… Nishtah Ickle-Roy?” He knew he’d butchered it, but it was the best he could do. He was relieved when Cas laughed, full and booming, clearly not offended and effectively breaking some of the tension caused by the heavy conversation.

“Yes,” he said with a smile. “It means the night watch of age, in Greek. I believe you call it “àrsadh caithris”?” Well, Dean felt ignorant. He laughed awkwardly.

“Yeah. Nice um… nice…” Words, Winchester, find the word. He could feel the blush creeping back as he spluttered. “Uh…” Shit. Shit! Tip of his tongue!

“Pronunciation?” Cas offered, clearly enjoying himself. Dean scowled at him, playfully.

“Yeah yeah, that. Shut up man, we can’t all be Classics professors.” Cas laughed again, holding his hands up in a placating gesture.

“My apologies.”

They stared at each other for an extra moment or two, and Dean couldn’t help thinking that this should make him uncomfortable. He’d never been so comfortable around someone so quickly, but this just felt… right. Girly or not, that’s how it felt. Cas took a deep breath and kept going.

“Anyway, when Michael and Nic turned twenty-three, the fighting began in earnest. Their powers manifested strongly in both, and Michael wasted no time in attempting to throw Nic from the family. The night that was meant to be the happiest in their lives turned into a bloodbath. Three innocent people were killed before Nic ran, refusing to cause more damage.

“My father had died by then, mysteriously, and with my mother’s influence and power behind him, Michael forced Nic to leave our territory. I was only eighteen when it happened, and I was off at college, having escaped the moment I was able. I heard from my brother, Gabriel, what had happened, but could hardly believe it. That was seven years ago.” He stopped and closed his eyes again, and Dean braced himself for whatever would come next.

“He came back,” Dean whispered, “didn’t he?” Cas swallowed audibly, his hands clenched into tight fists.

“Yes,” he said, his voice even more rough than normal. “He did. He came back to try to smooth things over with Michael and Naomi, to try to become part of our family again. He had no idea how bad things had gotten. How Michael had turned into someone who enjoyed hurting others, who used his strong powers to cause worst possible outcomes. My remaining brothers and I were all finding ways of escape, though it was not easy, not with Michael’s strong influence and particular ability. You see, Michael’s ability is--”

“I know,” Dean interrupted him, not wanting to hear any more about Michael. Not ever. He knew intimately what Michael was capable of, of the things he had done with his ability to manipulate people’s minds.

“I find myself apologizing to you quite a lot,” Cas said, repentantly. “I am sorry for continuing to speak of things that clearly cause you anguish. I’ll endeavor to make this long story somewhat shorter.” Dean looked into his eyes once again and found himself drawing calm from that strong gaze. Strange, the only person who’d had that effect on him up ’til now was Sammy.

“It’s okay, man. Really. I just…” he trailed off, trying to relax. “I know all about Michael and his power.” Cas nodded, once, with finality.

“Very well. Suffice to say that when Nic returned, the ensuing confrontation between my brothers did not go well. Michael tried to force Nic to end his own life and only Gabriel’s interference allowed my brother to stop before the draining of his own life became fatal.” Dean hated interrupting but he couldn’t help but be curious.

“What’s Gabe’s power?” Cas smiled with evident fondness for his brother.

“He can manipulate time,” he said with pride. “He took Nic out of time for long enough to get him away. He carried him to me and his car and we drove until we reached this place.” Dean’s eyebrows raised, impressed. Time-bending? Sweet! His enthusiasm must have shown on his face, ’cause Cas laughed out loud.

“Yes,” he said, chuckling. “Gabriel is full of surprises. He is completely unique; neither his power nor his looks are indicative of either my mother or father. He is a trickster, by nature, which results in some people forgetting just how powerful he is. Underestimating Gabriel has always been foolish.” That was it, Dean needed to meet this Gabriel.

“I think I like him already.”

“Yes,” responded Cas with a warm smile. “I do believe you two would get along.” He shook his head apologetically, seemingly impatient to end his saga of a story. Dean sat back and waved him on.

“I had already been in talks with the head of the Classics department here at this university, knowing that my final and decisive departure from Michael was imminent, and when I alerted her to my predicament, she was more than happy to push my employment through. Gabriel and I have been staying in a hotel room close to the hospital, where Nic was in a coma for nearly twelve days. He woke up two days ago.” Dean could feel the relief flowing from Cas. He couldn’t imagine what the brothers had gone through. Sammy had never been seriously injured, and Dean counted that as a blessing

“So, you’re all staying here? For…”

“For the foreseeable future, yes. I have found us a house near campus with enough rooms for all of us and within our budget. We move in on Saturday.” Cas looked hesitant again, wary. “If you are amenable to that, of course.”

Amenable? Seriously, who the hell _talks_ like that, anyway? And why did he think it was fucking adorable, of all things? But Dean had done rather well on the SATs, thank you very much, and he did _read_. Cas was asking if they could stay; Three rogue warlocks in his territory, with the fucking Shurleys on their tail. This would bring trouble, no doubt. Trouble of an even worse kind than what Dean had been worried about before coming here today.

So why wasn’t Dean hesitating at all?

“Yeah,” he said, smiling and sighing at the same time. “You’re gonna cause me a buttload of problems, Cas, but I told you that you and yours have my protection and I meant it. You can stay.” Cas’s face conveyed both massive relief and concern. He leaned forward in his seat and Dean found himself caught up in his gaze once again.

“I do not want to cause you problems,” he said, the sincerity in his voice doing weird things to Dean’s insides.

“Nah, it’s fine. I’ve got reason enough to hate Michael.” His eyes hardened and he stared Cas down to show his seriousness as he said his next words. “But you should know, if he comes here asking for trouble, I _will_ end him.” He let that sink in for a moment before continuing. “If that’s not okay, you need to say so now.” Dean hated the idea of hurting Cas by killing his brother. But this was Michael Shurley they were talking about, and he knew that given half a chance, he’d kill that sonuvabitch any way he could.

“I knew that when I came here,” Cas responded, not looking terribly upset at the idea. Instead, he kept his intense eye contact with Dean and looked just as serious as Dean was. “I cannot say that I am happy at the idea of Michael dying, because he was once someone I loved very dearly. However, he is not that person anymore. My brothers and I came to your land because I have heard you are a good warlock and an even better man. I know now that I have met you that everything I have heard is true. If it comes to it, you will have my magic, as well as Nic’s and Gabriel’s, in the fight against Michael.”

Dean could feel his ears burning. Compliments. Ugh. He almost said something, but that awful look of pain was back on Cas’s face, and Dean let it slide. Instead, he sent even more healing magic his way. Cas smiled slightly, but the grave knit of his eyebrows didn’t waver, and he wasn’t done talking.

“I assure you, Mr. Winchester, that since I now only have two brothers, I will die before either of them is harmed again. They are,” he sighed, “the only family I have left.” Cas finished with a horrible look of sadness coloring his face. Dean finally gave into the urge he had been feeling since he met the man and grasped his forearm with his hand, allowing his healing magic to connect even more effectively. Cas looked up in surprise and gasped at the sudden contact, but calmed almost instantly under Dean’s touch.

“First off,” Dean said, using his I-mean-business voice for the third time that day, although this time it was for a wholly different reason. “The name is ‘Dean,’ alright? I’m only twenty-seven, Cas, no need to make me feel ancient.” Cas smiled at that, and Dean allowed him to turn his arm over, enjoying the counter-magic that flowed through him when Cas clasped his forearm in return.

“And another thing,” he continued, “no more worrying. You’re under my protection now, and that means you’re family, you hear? You need anything, _anything_ , and you ask. I’ll get my little bitch of a brother, Sammy, to get it for you.” He winked at Cas, who laughed at that, and released Dean’s arm. Dean tried not to be disappointed at the loss of contact, but instead felt another idea pop up at the mention of Sammy’s name.

“Hey, speaking of, you busy tonight?” Cas looked a little confused as he considered the seemingly random question.

“I do not believe so.” Dean smiled at his answer.

“Well, it’s my baby brother Sammy’s àrsadh caithris. You wanna come?” At Cas’s taken-aback look, Dean realized that might be a little strange since an àrsadh caithris was generally a very personal thing. He tried to back-pedal.

“I mean, you’re family now, and you could meet everybody else in the clan and you could bring your brothers, and it’s really not that big of a deal; and Sammy may be a giant, but he’s really a super laid-back dude who’d probably love to have more people there…” He stopped himself before he rambled his way out of this dimension.

Cas smiled again, this time looking truly happy… at Dean’s discomfort. Great. Just, great.

“I would be honored to attend. I will ask my brothers if they would like to as well. Nic is still weak, but he is mobile and I think a nýchta i̱likía rolói would rejuvenate him. How shall I contact you for directions?” Dean was so excited at the thought of seeing Cas again that night and meeting Gabe that he almost dropped his phone while getting it out of his pocket.

“Oh, uh, I’ll just give you my number?” Getting cooler by the second, there, powerful warlock.

“That would be agreeable, yes.” Cas smiled as they exchanged phone numbers, and Dean finally slapped his thighs and stood up to leave. He was focused on trying not to let his giddiness show on his face or through his magic.

He was almost to the door (with Cas following close behind) when it hit him. His magic. He had been in this office talking to Cas for almost an hour, their conversation had been heavy and Dean’s magic had been uncontrolled multiple times, and yet, he had never felt the room get hotter. He felt dread settle low in his stomach, what if Cas was able to manipulate magic just like his dick of an older brother?

Dean whipped around to face Cas once again, as confused as he was when he first met the man.

“Hold it,” he said, putting a hand up to Cas, suddenly suspicious again. “How have you been controlling my powers?” Cas looked shocked, yet again, and worried.

“I thought that was you,” he said, taking a step back.

“No. But the room is still the same temp that it was when I got here. It should be hotter. I was upset.” Dean knew that he probably wasn’t making any sense, but this was freaking him out. Massively. By the look in Cas’s eyes, he was just as freaked out, although he probably wouldn’t phrase it that way. His hands were out in front of him in a placating gesture, eyes wide.

“I am sorry, but I don’t understand. I was so distressed and yet none of my normal magic ability was seeping through. I thought that was your intention by pushing your magic towards mine.” It seemed the rambling was contagious, and Dean was so confused. What in the hell was going on here?

“Okay, okay, everybody calm down. I think we’ve got that you weren’t manipulating my magic.” He didn’t phrase it as a question, but still looked for Cas to confirm the statement with a nod.

“Good. That’s… that’s good.” He tried to get his thoughts together, deciding to work this through out loud. “And I wasn’t trying to do that to you. So the question is **,** _what the hell just happened_?” He looked up at Cas, whose head was cocked to the side. He seemed to be considering Dean in a whole new way. Dean had never been stared at so much in his _life_.

“I believe…” Cas seemed to be figuring it out, and Dean really hated being in the dark.

“Spit it out, Cas!”

“My power, Mr. … Dean! My father’s side of the family gets their powers from the moon. Mine is that I have power over cold.” Dean stopped… cold. Ha.

“Cold.”

“Yes.”

“You can control the cold.”

“Yes.”

“So when you’re upset, you…”

“I tend to have an effect on temperature, decreasing it to relax myself. I find the cold to be a balm when I am in distress.”

“You’re… you’re the ice-man.” Dean knew he was being rude, but this was too weird. Cold? _Seriously_? What was this, a romance novel? Well, that would imply that there was romance coming, but Dean wasn’t usually that lucky. Nah, he was pretty sure he’d been living in the horror side of things.

He was so busy trying to catch his brain up with this new revelation that he almost missed Cas bristle, like a cat.

“I am no such thing,” he said, righteous anger putting the sexy growl back into his voice.

Yup, definitely a romance novel.

“It is not ice. I do not create _ice_.” There was a story there, but Dean wasn’t going to waste time trying to find it right now. “I can decrease the temperature, I can heal fevers and other physical ailments caused by overheating, can take the life-force from my enemies by cooling their bodies to life-ceasing temperatures! I can heal and I can kill, I do not create _ice_ , therefore I am not, nor ever will be an _Ice Man_!” Dean felt the temperature drop a bit on his overheated skin. Overheated not because he was afraid, panicked or angry. No. It was because wrathful, righteous Cas was the single hottest thing he’d ever seen in his _life._

His eyes were straight iron, and he was cooling the room one degree at a time. He was dangerous, he was powerful, and he. Was. Sexy. Dean put on his patented Winchester grin.

“Little tetchy about the name, Cas?” he teased. “Gabe call you that one too many times?” He quirked an eyebrow and Cas’s lips twitched up in response, the grey in his eyes cooling to the normal cerulean blue.

“I apologize,” he said, the heat returning to the room as the fondness returned to his eyes. “Again. My brother Gabriel has brought out the worst in me more than once.” Dean smiled wide at that.

“I know the feeling. Sammy can be such a bitch sometimes.”

“Brothers.” Cas shook his head, fondly. “I look forward to meeting yours tonight. That is, if I’m still invited?” Dean felt a swell of affection, strong and potent, both for his brother and for the warlock in front of him, smile stretching his face, head tilted like a puppy.

“Yeah dude, sure. You’re gonna love Sammy.”

“I have no doubt. And you, in turn, will love Gabriel. Perhaps Nic as well, though he can be… difficult.” Difficult? Difficult he could handle. I mean, he had Adam and Jo for Chrissakes. What’s one more volatile and irritating personality?

“Sounds like fun. I’ll text you directions, party starts at eight. See you there?”

“Absolutely, Dean. Though I do have one question…” Dean smiled at the way Cas said his name.

“Heat, Cas. Seems like we’re made for each other.” He quirked a smile to show he was joking.

“It would appear that way,” Cas replied, smiling even brighter. Dean smiled in return and then walked out of the office before he could embarrass himself by blushing like a schoolgirl, again.

He closed the door behind him and leaned his head against the wall, not caring that Cas could probably feel him standing there.

He had come here to confront a possibly dangerous warlock, and determine what to do. He had come here expecting a fight. Instead he’d had the most intense conversation of his entire life, and felt more alive than he had in years. Because of a goddamned _Shurley_. Or Novak. Whatever.

He had also possibly met his match, in every sense of the word. …And apparently had turned into a pre-teen girl. He made a noise that was distressingly close to a fucking _whimper_ (though he would never admit it, and if you ever said that, he’d show you just how powerful a warlock he _was_ , Goddamnit) and thunked his head against the wall for good measure.

Holy shit. What the _hell_ just happened?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ten meaningless points to anyone who can guess who Dean's ex is! 
> 
> Every time you review/bookmark/leave kudos, Dean has another awkward sexual dream about Cas.


	4. Stormy May Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's àrsadh caithris starts out with a bit more of a bang than Dean woulda liked.  
> Typical.
> 
>  
> 
> [](http://s558.photobucket.com/user/lennanightrun/media/CHWH.png.html)  
>   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, guys, GUYS! Do you see my amazing banner?! It's amazing. And was done by the incomparable LennaNightrunner. Amazing, what that woman finds the time to do. Amazing, amazing, amazing. AMAZING.
> 
> Thanks to her and Pegasus_Eridana for the betaing. Go read their stuff, after you get done with the insanity that is the length of this chapter. Seriously, this chapter is really, really fucking long. I don't even know. It just kinda happened.
> 
> Mentions of character death in this chapter, and a whole lotta angst. 
> 
> We get our other major pairing in this chapter, it'll become part of the official pairings of the fic in the next chapter, as I don't want to ruin the surprise.
> 
> As always, please let me know if you have questions! 
> 
> Enjoy!!!!

Dean looked around the small clearing in the Clinton State Park and allowed himself a strong surge of pride.

It looked perfect.

Dean, Adam, Ellen, Jo, and Ash had spent the afternoon and early evening schlepping decorations from the Roadhouse. There had been a considerable amount of bitching and moaning from the younger contingent, which Dean and Ellen had met with the pointed comment that anyone with an upcoming àrsadh caithris that would have to be planned and executed would do well to shut the hell up and carry some more boxes.

But it was worth it. The clearing was lit by a roaring bonfire as well as many candles along the tree line. There were streamers hanging in the trees and wildflowers that, even now, were being shaped into crowns for the participants of the celebration. There was a humming in the air, an excitement that was crawling through the assembled people like the best kind of inebriation.

Dean felt his heart swell in his chest when he looked at his friends, his family, his treibh. He felt like the luckiest bastard in the world, even with all of the awful shit that he’d had to fight through in order to get to this place.

He closed his eyes and breathed in the smell of spring. He felt free, relaxed. This was the biggest night in Sammy’s life, and he was here. And Cas was coming, would be here any minute.

Luckiest bastard, indeed.

 _Keep it in your pants, Princess. This is Sam’s night._ Colonel butted his head against Dean’s knee and Dean obligingly patted his head before letting his hand rest there.

 _Fuck off, mutt,_ he said, affectionately. _I’m the best big brother in the history of big brothers._ Colonel snorted, but leaned his head up to lick at Dean’s palm.

_Yeah, yeah. Like you don’t do this just so you can drink whiskey ‘til you forget how embarrassing it is when you dance around a bonfire like a hippie._

_Family tradition._ Dean countered, ruffling Colonel’s fur a bit before settling his hand on his Familiar’s head once again. The two of them stood sentinel on the outside of the clearing, keeping watch over the revelers for a bit.

There was Garth, and his Familiar, a calico cat named Mr. Fizzles.

Seriously, that guy.

Dean’s sometimes-coworker was making the rounds of the clearing, stopping to chat not only to the warlocks, but to their Familiars. When Garth’s power manifested as the ability to talk to animals, exactly zero people were surprised. Dean called him Snow White all the time, but Garth actually _liked_ the moniker. He learned all the songs to the Disney movie and would sing them whenever Dean was filling in as a part-time ranger. He would even go so far as to get the birds to whistle the tunes with him.

Dean wanted to be annoyed by it, but, as with all things Garth-related, he grudgingly loved them.

Dean chuckled as Garth tried to sweet-talk Bobby’s Familiar, Jasper. All he was getting for his trouble were twin looks of annoyance from both man and badger. Bobby wouldn’t actually do anything to hurt Garth, as he saw him as a son, but Jasper had a slightly shorter temper. Garth’s girlfriend, Meg, was talking to Ash, but Dean saw the fondly exasperated look on her face at Garth’s antics.

Ellen and her fox Familiar, Viv, were on the other side of the clearing, keeping a close feel on the surrounding area. Dean was always grateful that his almost-mother’s power was the ability to shield. She would know if anyone unwelcome was within a mile of the clearing the second it happened. Especially now that the one person who had been able to shield his magic well enough to get past Ellen was dead, his heart having been melted in his chest by Dean himself.

For what felt like the millionth time that day, Dean forced the memories into his box. He banished the phantom feel of Azazel’s chest under his hand to the furthest corner of that box after taking some reassurance from the memory of the bastard’s death. He was dead, he couldn’t get to Sammy.

At that, he finally let his eyes rest on all seventy-seven inches of his baby brother, who had his head tipped back in a laugh at something that Jo had said. He had a beer bottle in his hand and he looked happy and excited. Dean felt his heart swell with pride at the thought that in a few short hours, Sam would be a fully-fledged warlock with a Familiar and a manifested power of his own.

And pink eyes.

He smiled at the thought. He probably wouldn’t get that lucky, but a man could dream.

Sam turned his head and caught Dean staring at him. Even with the twenty feet between them, Dean could feel the warmth in Sammy’s eyes when they met his own, the gratitude conveyed there. Dean raised his own beer in greeting and Sam mimicked the gesture. Not for the first time, Dean was thankful that he and Sam could communicate without words. He hated feelings talk, but that one gesture told him that his brother was feeling just as thankful for him as he was for Sammy. They had been through hell, but this night was a celebration of their survival as much as it was Sammy’s coming-of-age.

There was no life for him without Sammy, none. They were lucky as shit to have made it to this night, and Dean would never stop thanking his one or two lucky stars that had kept the two of them alive and relatively whole.

He took a moment to thank the other lucky star, the one that had given him yet another brother right after they’d lost their father. His baby brother, Adam, was laughing with Rufus, and Dean thrilled to see the joy on his brothers’ faces.

Soon enough, it’d be time for Adam’s night. But that was a thought for another time. Tonight was all about Sammy.

Dean was taken out of his reverie when Ellen laid a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m pickin’ up three magical signatures comin’ into the park, son,” she said, concern lacing her tone. “You sure we can trust these Shurleys?”

“Novaks.” Dean corrected, turning towards her. He felt a surge of protectiveness at the thought of Ellen hassling Cas, and allowed a warning tone to creep into his voice. “I’ve got no doubt in my mind, Ellen, as I told you before.”

“Now, don’t bite my head off, boy,” she reprimanded. “You know damn well that I’m just watchin’ out for you and our family.”

“And I’m not?” Dean retorted, bristling at the implication. Ellen’s eyebrow merely raised at the anger in his voice.

“My magical perception may not be delicate, Dean Winchester, but that don’t mean that I want your testosterone muddyin’ the process. So you can just back the hell down. I’m not challengin’ ya, now. But it’s my job to make sure you’re keepin’ your head outta your ass and not lettin’ your dick make decisions it shouldn’t be makin’.” Dean felt his face flame at the words, and he bowed his head to hide it from Ellen.

“I’m _not_ , Ellen. You think I’d let anything happen to Sammy tonight? You think I’d have asked him here if I thought there was _any_ chance he was a threat?” He raised his head again and Ellen was regarding him with her terrifying I’m-your-mother-and-I-know-when-you’re-lying stare. Real mother or not, that look always got him shaking in his boots when he was full of shit.

But right now, he held her gaze with his head held high. He was taoisech of this treibh, and mother or not, she would listen to him when he knew what the fuck he was talking about. Anyone implying that Sammy wasn’t his first priority had another thing coming. And that thing would be coming violently. He could feel Colonel sending him even more strength as his Familiar began growling softly.

Ellen nodded her head, and her gaze softened. “Alright, boy, relax. Tell your mutt to stop growlin’ before Viv bites one of his balls off.” Sure enough, Viv was sneaking around Colonel, ready to attack. Dean felt a smile quirk his lips and an answering smirk appeared on Ellen’s face. “I know you’re more’n capable of takin’ care of Sam. I just had to make sure.”

“And you know I appreciate that, Ellen… Ma.” Her face softened even further and Viv stopped stalking and nosed Colonel’s flank in friendship. “But trust me, these guys are good. And if that bastard comes after them, I know that they’ll help me take him down.” He felt a little surge of violent excitement at the prospect, even as he wished to all the gods that no such thing happened at Sammy’s àrsadh caithris.

“Your word’s good enough for me, son. You know that.” She squeezed his shoulder and turned to look out onto the crowd. “Now, how long before Jasper kills Mr. Fizzles? My money’s on no more’n an hour.” Dean barked out a laugh, putting an arm around Ellen’s waist and holding her tight in a rare hug.

Luckiest bastard in the world.

~~~

Castiel was just about at the end of his rope.

He loved his brothers, he did. But they really had such an _infuriating_ way of behaving that seemed to clash with Castiel even at the best of times. And after he had related his afternoon conversation with Dean Winchester, they had become insufferable.

That was why they were two hours late to Dean’s beloved brother’s nýchta i̱likía rolói. His insane brothers had not let him out of the house until _they_ were satisfied with _his_ outfit. Of all the injustices. Castiel had been about two seconds away from calling the whole thing off, when they’d decided that his black jeans and dark blue button-up (Gabriel insisted it would bring out his eyes after the initial “Take _off_ the tie, Cassie! And un-button the top two. You’re twenty-five, not eighty, for chrissakes!) would do. Castiel took a calming breath as he put his Volvo into park, and allowed a bit of his magic to soothe his nerves. The bundle of blue-black fur in his lap arched up and he felt a tail twitch against the bottom of his chin.

 _Relax, lover boy. It’s going to be just fine_ , came the heavily-accented voice of his Familiar, Fergus. How Castiel had ended up with a Scotsman as a Familiar, no one really knew. Usually the souls of warlocks that we reborn into the bodies of Familiars stayed close to their homeland, but he had somehow gotten Fergus. Castiel sometimes joked that the warlock had died while on vacation and now had to be stuck in America as punishment. Even more strange was the fact that although Fergus’s name would suggest him having Scottish heritage, his accent was definitively English. Castiel constantly teased Fergus about being a mutt, which the animal most decidedly did _not_ appreciate. Castiel had suffered many scratches, though the barbs that had caused them had been well worth the pain, in his estimation.

Now, he stroked the Norwegian Forest’s ears and smiled when Fergus began to purr contentedly, all the while grumbling about how undignified this whole affair was.

“Are we actually going to exit the car, Castiel? Or would you rather just sit here all night?” Nic’s voice was an unwelcome change in his moment of calm. Castiel rolled his eyes as he heard Gabriel huff out a laugh from the back seat.

“Don’t bother him, Nicki, Cassie’s just day-dreaming about Deeeeean.” Castiel and Nic shared a long-suffering look at their brother’s antics just before Castiel opened his door and climbed from the car. He could hear Nic’s retort, even as Gabriel opened the door to retrieve their still-recovering brother.

“I’ve decided that my allowance for your annoying behavior is going to end tomorrow. The fact that you saved my life notwithstanding.” Castiel laughed out loud at Gabriel’s suddenly worry-stricken face. He didn’t blame Gabriel; Nic could be truly terrifying when he wanted to be. Castiel helped his chastised brother haul Nic from the car.

“Need some help?” At the sound of a voice behind him, Castiel froze where he stood. He could feel the tendrils of Dean Winchester’s magic curl around the base of his spine, and it should have been impossible for the action to feel as good as it did.

He was so completely doomed.

He turned to face the other warlock, who was accompanied by a German Shepherd that Castiel could only assume was his Familiar. Castiel was disappointed to find that his raging attraction to the head of the Lawrence tribe had not abated any from that afternoon. His heart rate climbed as he took in the magenta-flecked green eyes that sparkled in the firelight, as well as the smile that lit them up and drew Castiel’s attention to the other man’s perfect mouth. He unconsciously licked his own lips at the thought of pulling Dean to him and kissing that smile right then and there.

Entirely, utterly _doomed_.

“Uh, Cas? You okay?” Goddamn it all to hell. Castiel clearly had been staring for a bit too long. He cleared his throat in an attempt to speak before one of his brothers--

“Hehe, yeah, _Cas_ ,” came the wholly unwelcome sound of Gabriel’s voice. “You okay? Feeling a bit flustered, perhaps?” Castiel shot a glare at his big brother.  

“I’m _fine_ , Gabriel. Hello, Dean. These are my insufferable brothers, Gabriel and Nic.”

“I wish you wouldn’t put me in the same category as this _brat_ ,” Nic huffed indignantly. “It’s a pleasure, Mr. Winchester. Castiel told us about your conversation this afternoon and I’d like to extend my most sincere thanks for taking us in. As well as inviting us to this momentous occasion.” Castiel was warmed by his brother’s words, and even more so when Dean blushed and ran a self-conscious hand through his hair.

“It’s Dean,” he corrected. “And, uh… no problem, man. After what you guys’ve been through, it’s the least I could do.” He smiled at all three of them, and Castiel’s breath caught in his throat. This was ridiculous.

“Still, Dean-o, thanks. And nice to meet ya!”

“Gabe, the pleasure’s all mine. From what Cas here has told me, you’re quite the guy.”

“Little ole me? Aw shucks, Dean, stop flirting before Cassie has a heart attack.” Castiel knew right then that his brothers and Dean would get along fine, much to his chagrin.

“Gabriel,” he warned, and Fergus hissed in Gabriel’s general direction.

“Come on, Cassie, you and the pussy relax. Dean-o here’s gonna help us get Gimpy here to the party, and we’re gonna meet the birthday boy, dance a little, drink a lot, and celebrate! So stop being a grump, okay?” Castiel bristled at the reprimand, in front of _Dean_ , no less. He opened his mouth to retort, but Nic beat him to it.

“Call me Gimpy again, and no one will be celebrating anything except the fact that you’re no longer capable of speech, as I’ve ripped out your vocal chords.” His voice was low and menacing, but Gabriel just beamed at him.

“I have ’til tomorrow, Nicki, remember? Now, let’s go before poor Dean-o has to miss any more of the party while listening to us bicker.” Castiel was immediately chastened.

“My apologies, Dean, we should get you back.” Dean just smiled and Castiel felt his heart flip a bit in his chest.

“Nah, Cas, it’s no problem. I’m enjoying the show.” He winked at Castiel and the heart-flip turned into his heart stopping dead in his chest for a moment. He couldn’t help but remember that a few short hours ago he had spilled his entire life story to this man, who had simply comforted him through it and then offered Castiel a place in his family.

Castiel was never that open and forthcoming with his emotions. This resulted in Gabriel constantly calling him a “prude” and very few times when he had shared so openly with another person. He had known in coming to Lawrence that he would have to be honest with the head-warlock of this territory, and had expected a certain level of vulnerability because of that. Thus the conversation he’d had with Dean was born of necessity, but also something else. He couldn’t deny the fact that Dean put him at ease in a way that was wholly unique, and equally exciting and terrifying.

He mused on this as they walked to the site of the nýchta i̱likía rolói, the sounds of Gabriel and Dean’s banter floating over his head. His heart skipped a beat whenever he heard Dean’s laughter and Fergus snorted at him from Castiel’s side.

_You’re really screwed, luv. You know that, right?_

Castiel sighed. _I know, Fergus. He is just, so… so…_

_Wonderful? Charming? Fuckable? What word are we looking for, hm? He’s turned you into a fool, mate, I never thought I’d see the day._

_I don’t know what it is about him. I really don’t. But he makes me feel completely at peace while at the same time making me feel alive and…_

_Horny?_

Castiel blushed.

 _Well, yes,_ he said. _That. I would very much like… that._

 _What are you, twelve? If you can’t even say the word, Castiel, then the action will be a bit difficult._ Castiel glared down at his Familiar, who seemed to gaze at him smugly in a singularly feline way.

_You would be wise to remember who lets you sleep on their bed at night, Fergus._

The cat made an indignant sound and was about to retort when Castiel realized that they were in the clearing; Nic was already seated in a camping chair and Gabriel had run off to introduce himself to someone or other. He saw his exuberant brother on the other side of the clearing, talking to a brown-haired woman with a beautiful raven perched on her shoulder. Dean was no longer with them, but when Castiel looked around, he saw the warlock walking towards him flanked by a young, blond man and the largest human being Castiel had ever seen.

Holy Jesus above, the man was _huge_. Dean had _not_ been joking when he’d called his brother a giant.

“Cas, Nic, these are my brothers. This is the birthday boy, Sammy, and my youngest brother, Adam.” Dean’s brother Sammy took Castiel’s hand in his own giant one.

“Sam,” he corrected, with exasperation, looking at Dean with a practiced, pointed glare. “And it’s nice to meet you, Cas. Dean’s been talking about you all night.”

 Castiel blushed a bit, but returned Sam’s smile. He already liked the man, tree-like status notwithstanding.

“Have not,” Dean retorted, petulantly. “And shut up, Sammy, or I’ll tell your first-time-watching-porn story.”

Sam rolled his eyes and moved out of the way so that Adam could shake Castiel’s hand.

“Have too,” said Adam, coming forward to shake their hands. “Hi Cas, I hope you like my brother as much as he likes you.” Castiel tamped down the urge to blurt out something truly embarrassing like ‘How much _does_ he like me?!” and instead raised an eyebrow at Dean, who had turned an enticing shade of red. Instead, he reached down deep for a clever answer.

“Well, he _did_ say that we were made for each other,” Castiel said, smiling wickedly.

 _Well done, Castiel_ , came Fergus’s impressed purr.

 _Thank you,_ he replied. He was really proud of himself for not being a tongue-tied fool. It was even better when Adam let out a roar of laughter.

“Oh, I like you,” he said. “Dean, don’t fuck this one up. He’s gotta stick around.” Castiel smiled, but Dean looked mortified.

“I take it back, I hate my family. Watch your mouth, Adam, or you might not make it to your own àrsadh caithris. Sorry Cas, my brothers are dicks. Ain’t that right, Sammy? …Sammy?” Castiel turned to look at Sam, whose lack of response to the jibe was obviously strange. What he saw made his whole face widen in shock.

Sam and Nic were frozen in a fascinating tableau. One of Nic’s hands was in both of Sam’s and the two men were staring at each other with an intensity that frankly made Castiel uncomfortable, considering one of them was his brother and the other was the brother of the man who made his palms sweat in the _worst_ way. He felt as if he were intruding on an intimate moment, and Dean must have thought the same thing, for he looked both confused and concerned.

“Sammy?” He repeated, but Sam didn’t even flinch. He just continued staring. At Castiel’s brother. Who was looking at Sam as if he were the most beautiful, precious thing he had ever seen. Castiel had never seen such a look on Nic’s face; it was usually clouded with cynicism and anger at all of the injustice he had faced in his thirty years of life.

“Sam,” his sandy-haired brother breathed, as if he were meeting an angel for the first time. “Sam.” Castiel watched as Sam moved as if in a trance, bringing Nic’s hand up towards his face and closing his eyes as it reached his cheek. He could see the incredulous looks on the other Winchesters’ faces, but it seemed as if none of them were able to break whatever spell the two were under.

“Ohhhhh-kay!” Adam said, much too loudly. “That’s my cue. You Shurley-Novaks really are something, I don’t suppose you have a sister?”

“ _Sammy!_ ” Dean finally shouted, and Sam jumped about a foot into the air, releasing Nic’s hand and glancing guiltily at Dean. Dean rounded on Nic, who was looking bewildered and yet still completely entranced by Sam. Castiel just felt incredibly lost.

 _Someone needs to explain to me what the bleeding hell is going on_ , Fergus thought, rather loudly.

_My thoughts exactly._

“What did you do to him?!” Dean was screaming at Nic, garnering not only Castiel’s brother’s attention, but the attention of all of the party-goers. “Are you controlling my brother, asshole? Did you come here for that?”

Castiel’s heart sped up in panic when he realized the temperature in the clearing was rising steadily. He sent out a bit of magic in an attempt to soothe Dean, but the head-warlock would not be appeased. Instead, he whirled on Castiel, who flinched at the enraged look in the magenta eyes.

“Cas, I trusted you! What is he doing to my brother?” His voice was getting louder and louder and Castiel’s panic increased tenfold. He could _not_ lose this entrancing man when he had only just met him. He _would_ not.

“Dean, I promise you, I did not know this would happen. Nic, tell him,” he pleaded with his older brother, desperate. “Tell him you haven’t done anything to Sam.” But Nic’s eyes were only for Sam, who was meeting the other man’s eyes warily; Castiel wasn’t surprised considering his family’s reputation.

“Sam,” Nic said, as if the air was being punched from his lungs. Castiel flinched in sympathy at the sincerity and intensity in his brother’s voice. “I swear to you, I will never lie to you, I will never trick you, or hurt you. I would never, _ever_ manipulate you. I don’t know what’s going on, either. But I can tell you that my power is not in manipulating others. I didn’t get Naomi’s magic. Please, Sam, _please_ believe me.” He turned his eyes on Dean. “I have done nothing to him, Dean, but my magic yearns for him, it’s as if it’s straining out of me, towards his very soul.”

The temperature continued to increase as Dean stared down at Nic. The fury in his eyes was clear, but it was as if he was seeing something else, some _one_ else, and Castiel felt helpless to stop his anger. But he had to try. He had to make this right. He laid a hand on Dean’s forearm, just as Sam put his hand on Dean’s other shoulder.

“Dean,” the younger Winchester said, sounding shaken. “Please. He’s not Azazel. I’m fine. I don’t know what happened, but I felt it too. What he says, I… I feel it too. Maybe not that melodramatically,” he smirked as he flicked his eyes back to Nic, “but it’s there.”

Dean closed his eyes and Castiel could almost feel the pain coming off of the other man. He opened his eyes and stared at Sam for a long moment before shaking their hands off of his person.

“This is bullshit,” he said, succinctly, and walked away. Castiel felt bereft at the loss and turned to follow Dean into the forest. He heard Sam calling after his brother, and saw him start to follow as well, but Castiel stopped him. He didn’t know why, but he knew that he should be the one to go after Dean.

“I’ll go,” he said. “I’m sure he’ll be fine soon enough.” Sam looked down at him, and Castiel felt small, even with his six feet and then some.

“Cas, you don’t understand. These nights are hard for Dean. His àrsadh caithris…” the younger man trailed off, a sudden and intense pain in his eyes. Castiel could feel Nic’s magic, and knew that his brother was trying to support the younger Winchester. Sam’s eyes shifted to Nic and he smiled, slightly, before turning his focus back to Castiel.

“Well, it’s not my story to tell. But this has been coming all day. He’s scared and angry, and he’s going to want to lash out. This is my fault, I should fix it.” Sam looked so lost, and Castiel clasped the younger man on the shoulder and smiled at him reassuringly.

“And I’m sure that if you went to talk to him, he _would_ lash out. But I’m not his younger brother, Sam. Perhaps he’ll be more willing to relax if I talk to him. And besides, it’s your àrsadh caithris. You should remain here, with your friends. I’ll bring him back shortly, I promise.”

Sam stopped looking nervous, and instead was looking at Castiel appraisingly. Castiel tried in vain not to squirm under his stare. The younger warlock seemed to find something satisfactory in Castiel, because he nodded and Castiel felt Sam’s muscles relax under his hand.

“Fine,” he said, defeated. “Just, tell him that it’s going to be all right, okay? And tell him that if he misses my manifestation, I’m going to be _pissed_.”

Castiel laughed, letting it dispel some of the tension that hung in the air.

“You have my word.” And with that, Castiel and Fergus walked into the woods, feeling for the other warlock’s magical heat signature. They didn’t have to go far.

~~~

After Dean had witnessed his brother lose his damn mind over a much older man (and Cas’s goddamned _brother_ for fuck’s sake), he’d stalked off just far enough to be outside the clearing, and he was sitting on the ground with Colonel next to him. His Familiar’s head was rested on his shoulder, and Dean grounded himself by wrapping his arms around the dog and gripping his fur tight as he breathed in his friend’s comforting smell.

 _It’s okay, Dean, it’s okay,_ Colonel rumbled. _Deep breaths._ Dean closed his eyes as the panic threatened to take over. All this time, he’d been protecting Sammy, and for what? So Michael’s twin brother could come and take him away?

 _The moose isn’t going anywhere, dude. You’ve gotta relax. You know that ain’t what just happened. You’re just freaking out over nothing. So cut it out. Suck it up and breathe like a man._ Dean snorted in Colonel’s fur as the dog nipped at his ear like a mother nipping at a pup.

 _And how do men breathe?_ He retorted, but he was smiling. He knew that Colonel was right, but it was just too much. He had been so scared all day that something would happen to Sammy, and now something had, but it wasn’t what he’d been expecting, wasn’t what he’d been prepared for, and it wasn’t anything he could change.

 _Yeah, yeah,_ Colonel interjected. _We all know about your control problems. Get a grip. He’s smitten, not dying. And you’re one to talk; don’t think I couldn’t hear all the things you wanted to do to Cas. I hear_ everything, _unfortunately. And have I mentioned that he looks like a Disney prince? You sure can pick ’em._ Dean laughed. He felt himself relax infinitesimally, but it was enough.

Cas. Christ, that man. He was so beautiful and perfect and he made Dean’s heart do jumping jacks and how could Sam steal his romance-novel-worthy-crush thunder? And what the _hell_ was Dean doing thinking that way towards his brother (who he should feel happy for), or this situation in general? And what the hell was happening to him? He was such an awful person, an awful brother who wasn’t good for anything. And anyway, he couldn’t let himself fall for Cas, not when people he loved got ripped from him so often and and and--

Dean’s thoughts were incredibly fucked and he felt so lost. But he wasn’t so far gone that he didn’t feel the wisp of magic at his back. He knew without turning that Cas had followed him into the forest.

“Dean?” the man’s voice was tentative, like he was approaching a spooked horse; and Dean, god help him, could feel his body responding with both excitement and relief at the blue-eyed warlock’s presence.

He was royally screwed.

 _Not yet, you’re not_ , his Familiar’s voice was lecherous with suggestion and Dean drew back from hugging his Familiar.

 _You’re an asshole_ , he said.

 _Relax, Princess, I’ll leave you alone to woo Prince Eric. You call me if you need the cavalry._ Colonel rose to all fours and walked away, bumping Cas’s leg as he left. Cas seemed surprised at the contact, but he smiled and Dean knew that Cas had realized that Colonel had accepted him. The happiness in Cas’s face at the action relaxed Dean even further.

God, he really was a Disney princess.

“Are you all right?” Cas’s gravelly voice was definitely concerned, and Dean could feel the other warlock’s magic brush against his skin as Cas sat down next to him.

“Yeah, man,” he replied, and he was disturbed by how wrecked his voice sounded. He hadn’t been crying (‘cause he was a powerful warlock, and they _didn’t cry_ , dammit), but his emotions were like, blockading his throat, or something.  Whatever. “I’m okay. Just, a lot going on, ya know?” Cas made a noise of sympathy, and his magic stroked along Dean’s skin. Dean shivered at the feeling, and let himself relax even further.

“I can only imagine,” Cas rumbled. “I hear that these nights are difficult for you, and I’m sorry for that.” Dean could feel Cas’s gaze fall on the side of his head, but he couldn’t turn his own eyes to meet it. This is what he’d been avoiding all day, these thoughts, this conversation. He didn’t want to talk about Azazel, about Michael, about any of it. He just wanted to pretend everything was fine. Everything _was_ fine, dammit, and he could handle this. He had been handling it for years. He didn’t like sharing and caring time, it made him uncomfortable thinking that someone else would have to deal with this crap.

So why did this man make him want to spill his guts? Why did he have to fight this so hard? He wasn’t weak, and his fucked-up problems and past were his own, they weren’t anyone else’s burden. He was the taisoch of his treibh, and it was on him to shoulder his own pain as well as protect his people. It was something he was good at, something he loved doing.

But something about this man undid him in a way that was intoxicating. No one had made him feel as if maybe he didn’t have to do this alone in _years_. Even though there were so many people who would have helped, he hadn’t wanted to share his responsibility. Not since Benny died.

Not since Benny was taken from him.

Just like his dad, just like his mom, just like they all would be, someday.

Except Sammy. Sammy he could keep safe. Sammy was the one person Dean had never failed. He couldn’t even say the same about Adam.

Dean felt the grief so deep in him, and he was used to it. He was a happy guy, normally. He didn’t let this stuff get to him on the day-to-day. He could handle it. Handle anything.

But today, today he was at a loss. And everything was just piling up and he just wanted… he just wanted to not have to do this alone, for once.

He gulped around the frog that was working its way up in his throat, and blinked his eyes against tears. There would be no crying, he was a powerful warlock. A powerful. Warlock. He kept staring forward, not knowing what to say, not knowing how to form words.

“I’m sorry,” Cas interrupted his thoughts once again, “I didn’t mean to pry. I shall leave you alone if that is what you wish.” He moved to get up and Dean was struck with panic at the thought of Cas leaving. He reached out a hand to stop the other man, and finally lifted his eyes to meet Cas’s serious gaze.

“No,” he said, voice tight. “No, Cas, stay. I just, I just need a minute.” Cas looked at him in that crazy-deep way of his, and nodded, laying his own hand over where Dean’s still rested on his arm.

“Very well, Dean. Will you tell me what you’re thinking?”

Dean saw the strength in his gaze and the feelings that he had been keeping at bay for so long, _so_ long hit him like a tidal wave. He couldn’t stop them, couldn’t do it. So he gave in. Enough. He was so tired, _so_ tired, and whatever crazy feeling had him trusting Cas, well, maybe he was a stubborn bastard, but he wasn’t a coward. He could do this. He took a huge breath and started telling a story he had sworn he would never tell again.

“My àrsadh caithris,” he said, closing his eyes. “It was… shit man, it was fucking awful.” He ran the hand that was not still on Cas’s arm through his hair and sighed. “Azazel had been in hiding for years after he killed my mom, but something happened and he came back. He went after Sammy, god knows why. He and my dad had some shit between them, some bad blood, but no one knows why Azazel was so fixated on Sammy. He’d killed my mom in Sammy’s nursery the day he turned six months, and he came out of hiding to kill Sammy’s girlfriend, Jess, in the exact same way. Maybe it was that Sammy was the youngest son, maybe it was ’cause Dad loved him so much, I dunno.” Dean swallowed, God this sucked. He hated this shit so fucking much. Talking, _ugh_. He didn’t know where to go from there. Didn’t know how he could continue this awful shit-show of a story.

“How?” Cas’s voice was tentative and strange in the sudden quiet that Dean’s story had created. “How did he kill them?”

Dean huffed out a laugh that was completely without amusement.

“He held them to the ceiling and set fires that burned them alive.” Cas’s hand tightened on his own, and Dean squeezed back.

“God, Dean. That is… that is _monstrous_.” Dean couldn’t see Cas’s eyes, but he could bet that they were straight iron right now, as Cas’s magic was flowing over Dean intensely. It made him _feel_. So many things. Christ. Feelings talk and now this?

“Yeah, well,” he chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. “Not as bad as what happened at my àrsadh caithris.”

“Tell me.” And Dean couldn’t help but shiver at the command in Cas’s voice. Normally, Dean wasn’t one for following orders, but _damn_ , he would do anything Cas commanded of him.

And it was fucking _hot._ More than that, it gave him the courage to continue.

“He showed up, got through Ellen’s shields by masking his magic. He could do that, you know, mask himself so that he was invisible to warlocks. His power was that he could make powers stronger or wearer. So he could make himself invisible by just tamping his own magic down until it was pretty much gone. Bastard.”

Cas nodded, encouragingly, and Dean had to look down before he continued. He couldn’t do this and look in those eyes at the same time, powerful warlock or no.

“He was after Sammy, like I said. Wanted him dead. My dad got in between them and they fought, and Azazel he…” Dean swallowed again. Fuck, this was hard. “He killed him. My dad.”

“Dean, I am--” Cas started, but Dean cut him off, wanting to get this over with, dammit.

“He’d showed up right before midnight so while they were fighting my powers came to me, and I was pretty powerful… _am_ pretty powerful, so I got behind Azazel and I killed him. Melted his heart in his chest. But I was too late. Dad was… Dad was… dead.” He whispered the last word, the guilt making his throat close up. In his mind, he saw it happen again so, _so_ clearly, as if it were happening all over again.

He was seeing his dad fall just as Dean got his hands on the bastard that had taken so much from his family. He could see Sammy’s face as he screamed himself hoarse for their dad while Ellen and Bobby held him back, kept him safe from the fight. He could feel himself falling to his knees after Azazel was finally dead, seeing his dad’s dead eyes stare up him. Knew the sensation of his heart breaking as he felt for a pulse and found nothing, nothing.

Even after all these years, he couldn’t stop hating himself for being just a few seconds too late. Not fast enough. Not good enough. Not enough. He was powerful enough to protect his treibh, but he hadn’t been able to save his own father.

Why did they trust him? Why did they let him lead them? When all he was, all he ever had been, was a failure.

“I failed him,” he said out loud, and he realized that he was crying. Fuck it all. Wasn’t _that_ just the icing on the shittiest cake ever?

“No, Dean, you failed no one.” Cas’s voice startled Dean. It was harsh and serious, and Dean found a steely resolve in Cas’s eyes.

“You don’t know that, man. You don’t know me. You don’t know the shit I’ve done. The shit that I haven’t been able to stop.” He couldn’t let Cas think he was something he wasn’t. Couldn’t let Cas look at him that way. He didn’t deserve it, he _didn’t._

“You listen to me, Dean Winchester.” Cas put his other hand on Dean’s shoulder and he was as soothed by the other man’s touch as he was by his magic. “You are a good man and an incredibly powerful warlock. Your fylí̱ trusts you for a _reason_ and you were, _are_ so young. What you did, it was nothing short of remarkable. You had immense control over powers that had only just manifested and you used them to protect your family and your fylí̱. You saved your brother that night, and in that you are a great success. What happened to you was tragic. _Tragic_ , Dean. But it happened _to_ you, it is not a reflection in any way on who you are. Do you hear me? I will have no more of this talk. Not tonight, and not _ever_.” Cas’s voice was booming by the time he finished his rant, and Dean… well, Dean couldn’t say a damn thing.

 ’Cause he was having serious trouble with just _breathing_.

Cas had just fried his brain. He couldn’t handle that many compliments at once. Didn’t know which one to object to first. He saw such trust in Cas’s eyes, and there was passion there, too. Dean could feel himself drowning in those eyes as he tried to come up with something to say. His heart was racing, and he _wanted_ to drown in them, to let himself be consumed by the feeling he saw there.

In a flash that was so fast it could almost be that he’d dreamed it, he saw Benny sitting before him. The blue eyes flecked with crimson instead. He’d lost that love, and he never thought he’d feel this way again. But here he was, completely shaken down to his toes. And Benny, that’d been a slow burn. This, this was a forest fire; wild and massive and sudden.

Dean was burning alive.

“Cas,” he croaked. “You… you…”

“Yes, _me_ , Dean. _I_ believe in you. I trust you. I came here for your protection because I knew you would be able to provide it. You are an amazing man, and I will not hear otherwise, not even from you.” Dean felt his heart surge yet again, and he just… he just _wanted_ this man so _badly._ Had since before he laid eyes on him. And it _didn’t_ make sense, and he didn’t _do_ this. But he, he just, he couldn’t-

Fuck it.

Dean surged forward, the hand gripping Cas’s arm like a vice grounded him as he pressed his lips to the other warlock’s, who gasped in shock. Dean brought his other hand up to the back of Cas’s neck, and he held the other man in place as he proceeded to kiss him as hard as he possibly could. Cas was frozen for a moment before he moaned filthily and kissed Dean back, wet and hot. Dean’s eyes rolled back into his head at the feeling.

Well, this was about fifty shades of perfect, right here. And, no he hadn’t read that book, but he did basically have a younger sister. You know what? Shut up.

Dean slid his tongue into Cas’s mouth and groaned as Cas’s tongue tangled with his before the other man licked the roof of Dean’s mouth. Their teeth were clacking together and Dean could not possibly give _less_ of a shit when this felt like the most _right_ thing that had ever happened to him.

It was like eating warm apple pie on the hood of his Baby while Zeppelin blared from the stereo, kinda perfect. Like the first time he pranked Sammy and was graced with bitch face number one, kinda perfect. It was so perfect, it would be a whole new level of perfect that no previous perfect could describe.

And he never, ever wanted to give this up.

He moved his hand from Cas’s neck to fist in the other man’s messy black hair, and moved his mouth down to suck bruising kisses under his jaw. Cas just moaned, and the best part was Cas’s magic surging into his body, wrapping around his own.

And yeah, Nic was on his shit-list, but he now totally got what the dude had been saying about magic and souls and shit. It was like his own magic was crying in relief at the soothing touch of Cas’s power. Dean was getting lost in it. And he didn’t even give a shit if he never came back.

But then Cas was clawing at his arms and saying, “Dean, _Dean_ , you have to stop.” And Dean jerked back from where he had been working his way down Cas’s neck, confused.

“Cas? Do you… do you not…” He couldn’t even say it. Couldn’t even think it.

“No! It’s not that, of course I…” Cas was trying to collect himself and Dean groaned out loud at the sight of him; he was _wrecked._ Cas’s eyes were wide, pupils blown, and his hair was even more mussed. Dean could see the slick trails of his own spit on Cas’s neck and it made arousal flare deep inside of him. He moved back in, desperate to taste that skin once more. Mark it, claim it.

He was losing his fucking mind.

“ _Dean._ ” Cas said again, and Dean stopped moving and growled, frustrated.

“ _What?”_ he demanded, not knowing what could be more important than getting his hands on Cas again.

“ _Sam_.” Cas said, arousal and exasperation making his normally deep voice completely sinful in tone. “It’s Sam’s àrsadh caithris and he will _murder_ you if you miss his manifestation. That is, if you don’t murder yourself out of guilt.” At the mention of his brother, it was like a giant bucket of icy water had been poured over Dean. Just like that, his arousal was gone. Sammy. Fuck, he had to be there for Sammy.

“Shit,” he said, moving to stand up only to find that he couldn’t with all of the blood in his body trying furiously to figure out where to go: dick or brain or legs. He wobbled and allowed Cas to support him as they stood together. He looked at Cas to find the other man staring at him, fondly.

“Shit, Cas. I’m sorry… I just…” Dean suddenly felt uncomfortable. Now that the moment was over, he was feeling the aftershocks of all that feelings talk, mixed with the realization that he’d almost just fucked the guy on a forest floor.

 _My life is a romance novel_ , he thought, a little hysterically.

 _No shit, Princess._ Colonel’s voice came back at him, from a short distance. Dean blushed. He didn’t know what to do.

The decision was taken out of his hands (thank god) when Cas pulled him into a tight hug.

“Don’t apologize, Dean,” he whispered into Dean’s ear. Dean shivered, like the heroine he apparently was. Christ. “I very… _thoroughly_ enjoyed myself, and look forward to continuing this. But we need to get back to our brothers, very quickly, in fact.” Dean hugged him back and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Yeah, Cas. Right. Um, thanks.” God, he sucked at life. He took a deep breath and pulled away, holding Cas at arm’s length. “Thanks, ya know, for listening. And the um, kissing. That too.”

Cas grinned at him, full blown, and Dean smiled back. He could feel something inside him easing, an ever-present knot that came from the belief that no one would ever make him feel this way. Someone was making him feel this, and it was terrifying, but awesome.

 _Princess, you have three minutes. Get your ass back here, now._ Colonel’s gruff voice shattered the moment and Dean kissed Cas briefly before pulling him towards the clearing.

“We gotta get back, but I’m not done with you,” he said, winking at Cas as they all but ran back to the party.

“Good.”

~~~

When they got there, Sam was standing next to Nic (too close, in Dean’s opinion), and Dean was graced with Sammy’s bitch face number six. The one that said that he was super fucking pissed, but knew that Dean had a good reason to be doing whatever it was that was pissing Sam off.

It always managed to put a chagrined look on Dean’s face. He felt guilt surge up, hot and painful, in his chest. He let go of Cas’s hand (which he might have been holding, but fuck you, you have no proof) and ran straight for his brother, pulling his giant frame into a crushing hug.

This day, seriously. All the hugging, all the _feelings_. He was fucking turning into Garth.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled into Sammy’s shoulder as he felt his brother’s arms come up around his back and squeeze him tightly in return. “I suck, but I trust you. You know I do. I just…” he couldn’t do any more words. They were all done for the day. No more words for Dean. But it turned out he didn’t need them.

“I know,” Sammy said, emotion making his young voice gruff. “I get it. You’re just so fucking _ridiculous_ sometimes.” Dean laughed, feeling light and free. He was at his brother’s àrsadh caithris and they were both happy and healthy and _alive_.

And maybe in love. Both of them. On the same fucking day. With fucking _brothers_. Cause his life was a goddamned _romance novel_.

“I love you, Dean.” Sam was smiling at him when Dean pulled back to look at him. Though he never would admit it, even under pain of death, he was really happy that Sammy could do this feelings shit. One of them had to.

 _Be a man and tell your brother that you love him_ , Colonel yelled into their connection. Dean’s smile widened even further.

“Love you, too, ya moose.”

And with that, at what must have been the stroke of midnight, Dean felt Sammy’s magic coming in strong, could feel it coursing alongside his own. It wasn’t like Cas’s magic, didn’t have that same feel. Cas’s magic felt like his soul, like passion, like a perfect balance to his own. This magic felt like _home_ , like family, like… like _light_.

“Dean,” Sammy had leaned back and was now looking at Dean in wonder. His magic was lighting up his entire body from the inside; Sam was _glowing_ , and Dean’s heart skipped as he looked in his little brother’s eyes and _saw_ the moment his eyes turned, the hazel becoming golden as his power manifested exactly how Dean had thought it would.

He really loved being right, even if there were no pink eyes to speak of.

He held his brother’s forearms tight in his hands as Sam clasped his in turn and he _saw_. He saw Sammy burst into light, bathing the whole forest in gold, and Dean laughed in pure happiness.

He could hear a dog barking in the distance, and knew that both Cas and Nic were close by. But right now, the world was only him and Sammy, proof that Dean had done at least one thing right.

He’d protected his brother. They were alive and whole and _safe_ ; and now he had watched his Sammy become a fully powerful warlock.

Wait, Sammy was a fully powerful warlock. Fucking hell.

 _He’s gonna be such a pain in the ass_ , thought Colonel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Taoisech means “chief” in Irish-Gaelic.  
> *Treibh means clan in Irish-Gaelic.  
> * Fylí̱ means clan in Greek.
> 
> TELL ME YOU LOVE ME, I NEED LOVE TO SURVIVE.  
> ...I mean, comments and kudos would be nice.


	5. O Lazarus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> [](http://s558.photobucket.com/user/lennanightrun/media/CHWH.png.html)  
>   
> 
> 
> The end of the Sammy's àrsadh caithris goes smoothly enough.  
> Magical fireworks and impromptu PDA aside.
> 
> How is this Dean's life?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, y'all. I had kind of a rough week.  
> Also, this is my version of a short chapter. Yeesh. 
> 
> But here it is! And I'm already working on Chapter Six!  
> There will be smut. Get excited.
> 
> Thanks, as always to my amazing betas, Pegasus_Eridana and LennaNightrunner. Particularly because I got this to them sooo late and they were sooo great. 
> 
> Enjoy!

After the emotional fuck-up of a roller coaster that had been the last forty-eight hours of Dean’s life, with Sammy’s golden-eyed moose-self having coasted through his àrsadh caithris and now happily ensconced with his new boyfriend or soul mate or whatever, all without Dean having to kill anyone, Dean decided that it was high time that he got well and truly drunk.

This is how he found himself with a mostly empty bottle of Jack in one hand, and Jo’s hand in the other as they danced around the bonfire to the low, almost tribal drum music that Ash, Meg, and (surprise of all surprises) Gabriel were currently beating out on Bodhrans*, seated a safe distance from the flames.

 _’S’not fair,_ slurred Dean, the alcohol and emotional exhaustion making him sloppy. _The guy’s too cool, Colonel, shouldn’t be ‘llowed._

 _Yeah, ya hippie? What the hell you plannin’ on doing about it, huh? You’re not exactly getting any cool points, dancing around like a damn girl,_ Colonel huffed. Dean could tell that his Familiar was going for exasperation, but it just came out fond. _Not that Prince Eric seems to mind any._

At that, Dean allowed his eyes to meet Cas’s across the fire. Cas was sitting with his Familiar, Fergus (and seriously, what the fuck kind of name was _Fergus_ , anyway?) on one side, and Colonel on the other. Fergus-the-Stupidly-Named-Cat was staring at Cas, clearly trying to hold a conversation with the warlock, but Cas only had eyes for Dean. And he was staring at Dean as if he wanted to eat him alive, like ice cream.

 _That doesn’t make any damn sense, crazy._ Colonel’s pointed thought interrupted Dean’s musings.

 _Fuck off, dude. I could be ice cream._ Dean thought back, indignant. He could be. He was creamy, and tasty and dairy-like. Huh.

 _Oh, dairy-like, huh?_ Dean didn’t have to look at Colonel to know that the dog was rolling his eyes. _That’s just about the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say. Who let you drink?_

 _I’m a grown man and a powerful warlock. I do what I want._ Dean shimmied, just a little, to prove his point, and Colonel burst out laughing through their connection.

 _Alright, Princess, sure. You can be ice cream. I’ll just start calling you Butter Brickle._ *

 _Mmmmm. Butter brickle. I bet Cas likes butter brickle._ Dean let his mind wander to how Cas’s mouth had felt under his own, what those sinful lips would feel like sliding across Dean’s body, eating him up.

 _You’re disgusting. Bad enough that you’re eye-fucking each other every which way. Just promise me that when your butter brickle ass finally gets some, you’ll remember to_ close the damn connection _, got that?_

 _Dude, it was one time. Y’gotta let it go, already._ Dean would never forget waking up after one particularly crazy night with Benny to the sight of Colonel glaring daggers at him and hearing _you owe me so many of those bacon-strip thingies._ He’d laughed so hard he almost cracked a rib.

 _Whatever,_ Colonel huffed, irritated. _All I know is, by the way he’s lookin’ at you, I might make you put me outside, just to be safe._

Dean looked over and caught Cas’s eyes again, and he felt his magic pulse in his veins at the look of desperate want that he found there.

 _Damn, those_ eyes. Dean let the beat of the drumming carry his hips forward as he stamped around the circle of the fire, feeling those eyes burn a hole right through his body. He could feel the arousal creeping up his spine as he allowed himself to be truly free, letting his body move with the ancient sway of his people, his treibh. He felt completely at home, especially now that he had those eyes to ground him. And it gave him a strong swell of pleasure to realize that Cas probably wasn’t normally so open with his feelings. But this whatever-it-was that was drawing them together was strong enough to get the shyer warlock over it. And strong enough for Dean to be effectively pushing aside the panic attack that was coming with feeling this way about someone again.

 _Yeah, that’s gonna be a party._ Colonel was clearly concerned, but Dean wouldn’t let it ruin his night.

 _Buzzkill, man,_ he replied. _Bridges and crossing when we come and all that_. Heh, coming. That was gonna be awesome.

Okay, so he was a little drunk.

~~~

 _Oh for the love of all that’s impure and heretical, just get up and_ fuck _him already._ Fergus was getting seriously prissy with Castiel, but Castiel couldn’t bring himself to care enough to even fill a thimble.

 _Public, Fergus. We are in it._ Castiel wanted nothing more than to join the revelers by the fire and catch Dean in his arms. He wanted so badly to kiss those amazing lips and trace the freckles that spattered Dean’s cheeks with his tongue. _Oh Lord, I bet he has them_ everywhere.

 _Spare me the details, mate. Since when did you become a sex fiend?_ Fergus could try to hide it, but Castiel could hear the concern lacing his snarky tone.

And that was just it, Castiel didn’t _know_ how this had happened. He had always been the cautious one, the one who not only looked before he leaped, but argued each side until he was blue in the face. He had never really leaped at all, looking or otherwise.

The bravest thing he had ever done was standing up to Michael, first at his own àrsadh caithris, and then again just two short weeks ago. But that was controlling himself to the largest degree; this? This was a freefall. And that was something Castiel had never experienced before.

But he wanted to, now. He wanted to fall into Dean Winchester and never resurface. Interlace their magic together until you couldn’t tell where Dean ended and Castiel himself began. He wanted to catalogue each and every one of Dean’s expressions, his emotions, his likes and dislikes, his fears.

He wanted to spend forever assuaging that fear, and the guilt that seemed to taint Dean Winchester’s incredibly bright soul.

 _Whatever, luv,_ interjected Fergus, amusement in his tone. _Tell yourself that you’re so pure, I know that you just want to bury yourself in that sweet arse and never come out._

Castiel whipped his head to face his feline Familiar. “ _Fergus_ ,” he hissed out loud. The cat just laughed in reply.

_Don’t even try to deny it._

_You are insufferable,_ Castiel said as he settled his eyes back on Dean’s dancing form, feeling his magic pulse in his veins. He’d only been experiencing the sensation of his magic reacting so strongly to another person for ten hours and he was already addicted. _And I’m not denying anything, but must you be so vulgar?_

 _Yes_ , Fergus purred. _The gods paired me with you for a reason, luv. I’m meant to pull that stick out of your arse any way I can._ _Now, go dance with the green-eyed damsel, the mutt and I can take care of ourselves. Go on, now._

 _Very well, I’m going_. Castiel got up off of the ground and let Dean’s eyes pull him closer to the fire, a moth to the flame. When he got there, Dean’s smile stretched across his entire face and he ceased dancing in order to pull Castiel in so that he was flush against the other warlock’s body, arms wrapped loosely around each other.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel murmured, and Dean’s face lit up.

 _Smooth, boss,_ Fergus teased.

_Leave me alone._

“You’re in the way, Winchester!” Came the indignant cry from the small, blonde girl that was dancing next to Dean. Castiel wracked his brain for her name, and he thought it might be Joe. Jo? It didn’t matter, no one could fault him for being distracted by the fact that Dean had tucked his face into Castiel’s shoulder and was breathing him in deeply.

 _He’s been with that mutt Familiar of his too long._ Fergus was not impressed.

 _Quiet,_ Castiel replied. _I do not mind. It is… pleasurable._ He closed his eyes and breathed Dean in as well, letting their magic twist and twirl around each other.

“Oy! Winchester! Get out of the damn way, and take your pretty colors with you!” Wait, colors? There were colors? That was… abnormal.

“Lay off, Joanna Beth. If I wanna stand here and be a one man firework show, ’s’my business.” Ah, Dean himself was letting his magic manifest visibly. Castiel smiled, settling even further into their embrace.

“One man firework show, Dean?” Castiel allowed some of the ridiculous fondness that he was feeling for this other warlock, this _stranger_ to creep into his voice. “That sounds like the name of a musical group.”

Dean snorted into his neck, the sensation of air moving across the sensitive area causing arousal to flare deep in Castiel’s blood.

“A _band_ , Cas,” Dean murmured into Castiel’s skin, causing him to shiver almost violently. “S’called a band. We should start one, you n’ me. Could call ourselves the one man firework show.”

“But we are two men, Dean,” Castiel reminded him.

Dean snorted out a laugh and began to nose up Castiel’s neck to his ear. “Smartass,” the taisoch breathed into Castiel’s ear before letting his smooth-shaven cheek settle against Castiel’s own stubbled one, breathing lightly into the dark-haired man’s ear. Castiel’s breath caught in his throat as his blood began to pound, just at this, this minimal contact. “Well, if you’d let go a little, we could be a two man firework show.”

Castiel smiled and allowed his own magic to materialize visually, wrapping around Dean’s in the firelight. The magenta and iron swirled around each other, intricate and beautiful. The two colors also swirled around Dean and Castiel, creating a magical encasement just for the two warlocks. Castiel let himself feel _safe_ for the first time since he had run from Michael. Dean’s magic supported his, pulled the iron tendrils higher and higher until Castiel felt his very soul flying into the air. He pulled his face away from Dean’s only to find that the other warlock had closed his eyes.

“Dean,” he whispered, mesmerized not by the colors dancing around them, but by the other man’s face. “Look.” He witnessed Dean’s eyes open and widen in wonder. He witnessed Dean’s already flushed face brighten and light up like a child’s at the sight of their magic, combined. He heard gasps from the other warlocks present, but he never took his eyes from Dean.

Castiel couldn’t help the surge of incredible awe and inspiration that he felt at the sight of this man before him. This man that he had only known for ten hours, who had already made him feel more than any other had in his entire life. Castiel was floored by the way his heart seemed to expand in his chest at being able to put this look on Dean’s face. Dean Winchester, the man who had lost so much, had sacrificed so much, and yet still was able to smile, to laugh, to let Castiel into his life in such an unexpected and amazing way.

Castiel, the one who was never noticed save for when he erred. Who had been content until today to live his life quietly, unassumingly alone with his thoughts and studies. Who had only ever been worth anything when it came to loving his family.

He felt as if he was seeing the rest of his life unfurl before his eyes. Saw himself waking up with Dean, making love to Dean, _protecting_ Dean. Saw the small arguments that would inevitably surface, and he was shocked to realize that he wanted them; no, he _craved_ them. He wanted to spend his life proving this man’s own worth to him, and making himself worthy _of_ him. He wanted… well, he supposed he wanted everything.

The thought made his heart race uncontrollably in his chest, the safe feeling was broken as he was suddenly terrified at the immensity of it all.

 _What is happening, Fergus? This is insane._ The thought was wild, just as he felt. Out of control, fearful.

_No one’s arguing, luv._

_You are absolutely no help._ Castiel’s magic faltered in its dance as he pulled it back inside him for the comfort it provided.

He felt the panic threaten to take over, the fear that Michael would come for him and somehow hurt Dean in the process; that Dean would not, _could not_ possibly be as insane as he and be feeling these same things. It was too much, far too soon. And he wasn’t going to be enough to shield Dean from the pain his family could cause. What if Zachariah had followed them here and this-this- _love_ that he was feeling was simply a manipulation of his strongest emotions?

He clutched Dean’s body tighter to his and called Fergus to him.

 _Coming, Master,_ his Familiar grumbled. _Maybe once you get laid you won’t be such a namby-pamby._

 _Please, Fergus,_ Castiel thought. _I’m sorry, I am. I just—_

 _Relax luv, I’m here._ Castiel sighed in relief as he felt Fergus weave himself around his legs. He drew strength enough to speak to Dean about his concerns.

“Dean,” he whispered, almost flinching when Dean’s equally magenta and emerald eyes flicked to his, worry written all over the other man’s face.

“What is it, Cas? You okay?” Even inebriated, the other warlock was commanding in his concern for others. It calmed Castiel even further.

“I am. I’m simply,” he sighed, trying to find the right words, “simply a bit concerned over what is happening. I _feel_ ,” his breath caught in his throat and he squeezed his eyes shut as tears threatened. Fergus mewed from where he was rubbing his face soothingly into Castiel’s leg. “I feel so _much_ , Dean. And Sam and Nic as well? I don’t dare presume to know what you yourself are feeling, but _I_ … I feel _so much_ and it frightens me. _What is going on_?” he let the question hang in the air between them and risked looking into Dean’s eyes even as his heart beat wildly in fear at the response he would receive. Dean looked perplexed.

“Really, dude? Feelings talk?” There was so much feigned annoyance in Dean’s voice that Castiel was forced to laugh, even if it was a bit strained. “Christ, between you and Sammy, I’m never gonna get a day off.” He smiled, and Castiel felt chagrined.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” he said, beginning to pull himself from the other warlock’s grasp. He felt relief at the tension being broken a bit by the laugh, but he also felt despair beginning to claw at his chest. Dean was clearly uncomfortable at Castiel’s admission, he clearly did not feel the same way. Castiel tried to remove himself from their embrace. “I should never have said—”

Dean tightened his hold and breathed out a long-suffering sigh, effectively cutting Castiel off.

“No, Cas, it’s…” Castiel flicked his eyes back up to Dean’s face, just as the other man looked away. “I just…” He huffed in displeasure, evidently unable to find the right words, and Castiel felt guilty yet again.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I don’t seem to do anything except cause you anguish. I… I do not mean to.”

“I know,” Dean answered, softly. “It’s not you, man. I just suck at this.” He laughed, the self-derision clear as day in the sound.

Castiel allowed himself to tighten his arms back around Dean, offering support at the affirmation, however small the allowance of Castiel not being alone in his feelings had been.

“It’s weird for me, too, okay?” Dean said. “And I’m probably gonna freak out about it, don’t you worry. But can we… can we just _not_ , tonight?” He looked at Castiel with a plea in his eyes and Castiel felt himself warm even more to the man. “I’ll talk to Bobby about it tomorrow, see if he has any ideas about why we-- you n’ me, Sammy n’ Nic—why this is happening, but can we just, I dunno… let it… be? Just for tonight? I just, don’t wanna worry. Not tonight. Not when… it’s just been a really, _really_ good night, ya know? Can we not fuck it up?” Dean’s eyes locked on Castiel’s, and they were bright with fear and hope. Castiel didn’t think he’d ever seen anything so beautiful in his twenty five years of life.

Dean sounded so vulnerable, and annoyed at himself for that vulnerability. It was a new sound for the other man and Castiel would never tire of learning new facets of Dean’s expression, new voices. He nodded at Dean, and smiled, letting the happiness take over yet again. His heart calmed and he reached out with his magic, letting it wrap around Dean’s. It felt like coming home.

 _You, mate, are such a girl._ Fergus sounded pleased, knowing that his master was calm enough to get on without him. Castiel watched as the cat stalked away. _You let me know if you’re going to have another girly meltdown, yeah?_ Castiel allowed himself a smile.

“What’s so funny?” Dean asked, guarded. Castiel realized that he hadn’t yet responded to Dean’s query. He leaned in and nosed at the other man’s cheek to take the look of worry away.

“Fergus is being unkind. It isn’t a new phenomenon.” He smiled and moved his lips ever closer to the bewitching lips of the man in his arms. Dean was right, whatever was going on, they could ask questions tomorrow. Tonight, he would do something he seldom let himself experience.

He would enjoy.

“I would very much like to do what you propose,” he continued, his lips close enough to Dean’s so that their breath mingled between them. “Tomorrow, we shall ask questions and find answers. But tonight, I will endeavor to do what feels right, no matter the reason for that rightness.” He smiled when he realized that Dean’s breathing had sped up and become erratic as he spoke into the other man’s mouth. Castiel allowed himself to be bold in a way he seldom was and flicked his tongue out, lightning quick, touching Dean’s top lip and tasting the other man.

Dean groaned in response and Castiel felt himself harden, almost embarrassingly fast.

“Cas, man, you’re killin’ me here.” Dean’s voice was rough with arousal, already. And Castiel felt pride surge through his veins, knowing he had caused such a reaction.

“I’m going to kiss you now, Dean,” he said, sliding one hand into Dean’s hair and holding his head steady as he connected their lips. He felt Dean’s hand come up to rest on his neck as he traced the other man’s lips with his tongue, feeling Dean shudder as he parted them, letting Castiel dip inside.

Dean was liquid fire, and Castiel moaned deep in his throat when their tongues slid together, dancing, fighting for a dominance that was evenly matched. _They_ were evenly matched, and to Castiel it was more intoxicating than anything else. He pretended to give up the fight and let Dean push their tongues back into his own mouth, but then he closed his lips around the other warlock’s slick appendage and sucked, hard. Dean went pliant in his arms, and Castiel took control.

He pulled Dean even closer to him and slid a thigh between the other warlock’s legs, rutting slowly, sensuously against him as he sucked savagely on his tongue. Dean was making these absolutely _obscene_ noises and Castiel drank them down like ambrosia, letting their tongues connect once more.

All he could think was _more, more, more_. He wanted to bury himself in this man and never come out. Fergus was right, damn him. He wanted to own Dean, to be owned _by_ him, to put his mark on him so that Michael could never touch him.

He was Castiel’s, now. No matter what the answers of tomorrow might bring. There was no possible outcome that would cause him to give this up. Not ever.

“ _Jesus,_ Cassie!” Gabriel’s playful voice cut through his arousal, as it had always been able to do. “Get a damn _room_ , already!”

 _Public, Castiel,_ Fergus added. _You’re in it._

Castiel froze as he opened his eyes and saw all of Dean’s treibh in a circle around them. Dean’s family and friends were staring at the two of them with various looks of amusement and joy.

There was Sam, smiling indulgently and snarkily at them, even as his own arm was wound around Nic’s waist. Castiel’s brother was looking contented and snarky his own self.

Ellen and Bobby, who Castiel understood to basically be Dean’s _parents_ were looking at them with identical raised eyebrows and smirks.

Joanna Beth was video-recording them on her smartphone device.

Gabriel, Meg and Ash had stopped drumming and Gabriel was beginning a slow clap that the rest of the party-goers seemed happy to join in with.

Castiel felt like he was part of a spectacle, and the audience was made up of the only people he cared about and the only people he was meant to impress, having decided to be with Dean.

He could feel himself get hot with embarrassment, viciously trying to cool himself down with his magic.

He. Was. Mortified. 

“Oh Christ Almighty,” Dean’s voice was muffled from where he had hidden his face in Castiel’s shoulder. “Can you teleport?”

Seems he wasn’t the only one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bodhrans are Irish drums. They are so sweet.  
> Butter brickle (for all you poor Brits out there) is butterscotch/toffee flavored ice cream with chunks of (sometimes chocolate covered) toffee mixed in.
> 
> I'll give you two guesses as to what my favorite ice cream flavor is... but you'll only need one.
> 
> Reviews are LOVE! Thank you for reading!


	6. Nothing Else Matters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> [](http://s558.photobucket.com/user/lennanightrun/media/CHWH.png.html)  
>   
> 
> 
> Dean finally gets Cas in a bed, and some weird shit happens.
> 
> Which is par for the course, really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovelies!  
> Sorry for making you wait so long for this, but I think I might have to change updates to every other Monday. Real life, it really sucks.
> 
> But here's a lot of sex to make up for it. 
> 
> Thanks much to LennaNightrunner and Pegasus_Eridana for their amazing edits, as well as their love and support. I would be lost without them (for realsies). 
> 
> Also, there's quite a bit of rimming in this chapter... so if that squicks you, sorry! 
> 
> Enjoy!!!

If Dean never looked up, he’d wouldn’t have to see what ridiculous looks his friends and family were surely aiming at him right now. So he kept his face right where it was (thank you), pressed tight into Cas’s neck. He also kept his connection with Colonel firmly closed, knowing that his Familiar was probably having a goddamned field day right now.

“I’m afraid not, Dean. My powers of inter-dimensional travel are not strong enough for that. I apologize.” Castiel’s voice was warm and dirty with arousal, but Dean could also hear just how freaked out the other man was. And here Dean was being the asshole who was forcing Cas to face Dean’s treibh, alone.

Dean sighed. He could do this. Could face his family and friends _and_ get himself and Dr. Castiel Sexy, PhD, out of there.

“Me neither,” he replied, allowing himself one more second of ignorant bliss before pulling his head away from the other man’s neck and opening his eyes to see that Cas was tomato red with both embarrassment and arousal.

Interrupted arousal. That Dean had caused.

God, Cas was so friggin’ _hot_.

Dean needed to get this man home, and in his bed. Pronto.

Consequences be damned.

He smiled and brushed his lips softly over Cas’s chapped ones. His own lips were swollen with the kisses that Cas had so forcefully controlled, and he wanted nothing more than to have Cas reclaim his mouth over and over and over. He closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to clear it through the fog of lust.

Calm down, bucko, first things first.

He turned to face his treibh, and used his best I’m-in-charge-don’t-fuck-with-me voice.

“We’re leaving,” he said, ignoring the lascivious looks that so many of his friends were sporting and purposefully avoiding Sammy’s higher-up-than-everyone-else’s face. Instead, he turned towards the closest thing he still had to a father.

“Bobby, I’ll be coming around tomorrow to talk about what in the hell happened tonight. Probably around noon. Ellen, don’t let Gabe drink too much cause he has to drive Nic’s ass home. Gabe, you’re driving Nic’s ass home. Cas is comin’ with me. Jo, Ash, Adam, Garth, and Meg; you guys are on clean-up. I’ll buy you all beer—or peach schnapps if your name is Snow White.”

He paused to take a breath and looked around at his family, blood and chosen. Everyone was either staring at him like they wanted to burst out laughing (Meg, Rufus, Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Adam), or like he was in serious danger of being buried under a group hug (Garth… well, pretty much just Garth). Dean was still avoiding Sam’s gaze, but he pulled the courage up from his gut, clasped Cas’s hand tightly in his, and finally turned to his brother. Who was grinning. Like the Cheshire cat.

“Samantha, congrats,” he smiled, rejoicing slightly when Sammy’s face looked less smug and more bitchy. Oh number four, the I-hate-when-you-call-me-that face. Number four was _awesome_. “I’ll see you tomorrow, let you know what time you should be at Bobby’s. You remember our pact now, ya hear? Unless you want tonight to be the last night you have with both of your balls.” Sammy blanched a bit, and Dean smirked, letting some of his evil intent through. He kept that intent on his face as his eyes slid to Nic’s, who was looking content and calm. Dean wanted to hate the guy, he did, but if he wanted to trust Cas, he had to trust this brother-snatcher too.

Didn’t mean he had to like it.

“Nic, you fuck up my brother, and I will kill you. And that is a fact. You come tomorrow, too.” His words were steel, leaving no room for an argument, and Nic nodded, solemnly. Dean searched his face for anything manipulative, anything dark, but he found nothing but respect and amusement in the other man’s ice-blue eyes that were flecked with… black? Huh.

“You heard what I said before, Taisoch, I don’t like to repeat myself. And rest assured that the over-protective brotherly sentiment is returned.” Dean couldn’t help it, he found his lips twitching up into a smile at the warning tone in Nic’s voice, and the title wasn’t lost on him either. Nic was letting him know that he was accepting Dean as his leader, and had infused the word with all of the respect that it deserved.

“Noted,” he responded, softening his tone as he smiled at the older man. “And good luck with that one,” he said, nodding at his brother. “He’s a little bitch.”

Dean laughed out loud when Sammy’s bitchface darkened, and he strode forward and caught his little brother up in a hug before the bigger man could retort. Dean could feel Sam’s annoyance in the way that he refused to hug him back at first. Dean just pulled him in tighter.

Seriously, the hugging. Dean would be taking a week-long break from hugging anyone after tonight’s festival of girlyness.

But when Sam’s arms reluctantly came up around him, Dean pushed a bit of warmth at his brother and mumbled, “Worth it.”

Because it was. Thank the gods for this, his brother, safe in his arms. Fully powerful, happy, and alive.

“You’re still an asshole,” Sammy mumbled, but he softened the sting of the words by lighting Dean up a bit from the inside. Dean felt his heart lose its heaviness as Sam’s light filled up all of the small, dark places in his body and soul.

Heh, cool.

“Nice trick, Samantha,” he said, letting his pride come through in his voice.

“Shut up, it’s awesome and you know it. Now get the hell outta here and get that man into a bed. A _private_ bed.” Sam shoved him a little, back towards Cas. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Deanna.”

Dean scoffed at the name, and turned back to Cas, taking the other man’s hand in his own.

God, this was _weird_. Walking away from his treibh with the full knowledge that everyone knew what was about to happen. But he looked at Cas’s face, which was still shining with arousal, and he realized that he could get used to it.

 _You coming, mutt?_ Dean shouted to Colonel through their connection when he realized that the dog wasn’t at his side.

 _Yeah, yeah,_ Colonel grumbled. _You just remember what I said. I’ll get the furry feline, too_.

That brought Dean up short. Colonel could talk to Fergus? That was, well, really fucking _weird_ is what that was.

“What is it, Dean?” Cas’s voice was strained, exasperated. Dean looked over and saw that the other warlock was looking strung out in the _best_ way.

Yeah, he could get used to this.

“Sorry, Cas, but it looks like our Familiars can talk to each other.”

Cas’s head tilt went into maximum overdrive, and Dean wondered if the other warlock ever got a nasty crick in his neck.

“That’s… unusual.”

Dean snorted. He really, _really_ liked this guy. Which was kinda obvious considering the last half hour, but still.

“Try unheard of.” He could feel the worry start to claw at his chest. Because, seriously, all joking about romance novels aside, what the fucking _hell_ was going on here?

 _Relax, Princess. Questions tomorrow, right?_ Colonel didn’t sound too worried, which was promising. _It can’t be a bad thing, whatever it is. Stop being such a worrier. You’re starting to sound like Ellen._

Dean bristled, no one likes it when someone says that you’re turning into your _mom_ , especially if that mother-type slot is filled by Ellen Harvelle.

_You sonuvabi--_

“Dean?” Cas’s worried voice cut through his silent fight with Colonel, who radiated smugness through their connection. “Are you alright? Would you like to return to the party instead? We don’t have to do this.”

Dean turned to look into Cas’s gorgeous blue eyes as they flickered in the fading bonfire light. The pupils were still blown a little wide with arousal, but the care and concern Dean saw there almost took his breath away. He wanted to take that doubtful look out of Cas’s eyes and replace it with the fire that Cas had shown when he’d been sucking his soul out through his tongue earlier.

Dean wanted to spend forever making sure that Cas never felt afraid again. Especially not of him. He wanted to protect the man in front of him, shield him from everything that could hurt him so that Cas could be super confident and strong. Dean knew that given half the chance, Cas would spread his wings and fly higher than even he thought possible. He wanted to see that, wanted to give Cas that.

 _Yeah, yeah, I’m a fucking princess, I know_. He said it before Colonel could.

“Just arguing with my mangy mutt, is all,” he said to Cas, pulling him forward into a soft kiss. He kept it light, meaning to reassure them both, and pulled back to nuzzle Cas’s stubbled cheek before it could get out of control. Apparently, it didn’t take too much.

_Mangy mutt, huh? Keep talkin’ like that, Butter Brickle, and I’ll pee all over the couch._

Dean snorted and grabbed Cas’s hand, leading him towards his Baby.

“Come on,” he said to the man, dog, and cat. “This train is leaving the station and going express.”

_You are such a dork._

_Says the one using the word “dork” in a sentence._ They finally reached the car and Dean went to unlock it.

Before he could, though, Cas’s gravelly voice drifted over the top of his beloved Impala. “Please hurry, Dean. I would like to get you home so that I can get you naked, mark you all over, and have sexual intercourse with you in every position imaginable until neither of us can stand. Though at some point, I would like to do all of those things to you in this magnificent automobile.”

Dean dropped his keys. He also smacked his head on said magnificent automobile when he leaned down to pick them up.

Christ Almighty.

~~~

In retrospect, Castiel supposed that it was a miracle of sorts that they didn’t get into an accident on the way to Dean’s house.

He admitted that he probably wasn’t helping matters by not being able to stop touching Dean, even for a moment. His hand had alternated from covering Dean’s on the stick shift to running his fingers through the other man’s shorter hair to touching Dean’s thigh and cupping the older warlock’s arousal through his jeans.

Dean had swerved somewhat violently at that and ordered Castiel to not “touch the goods” while he was driving. Castiel understood that Dean loved his car, which was an absolutely _stunning_ ’67 Impala, and if Cas caused him to crash said car, not even destiny (or fate, or some weird soul-magic) could save their budding relationship.

But he found that now that he had full permission to touch, he was drunk with it. He was completely unable to keep his hands from Dean’s perfect form. Unable to stop connecting their magic together.

This is how they found themselves on Dean’s back porch, not even making it all the way indoors. Castiel had no complaints, however, as he currently had Dean pressed up against his back door, the other warlock’s head thrown back as Castiel sucked a mark under his ear that would surely be purple tomorrow. His hands were under Dean’s shirt, and he was cataloguing all of Dean’s muscles and learning what made the other man twitch and what made him twitch _harder_.

He listened to Dean moan, because of _him_ , and swore silently that it was the most beautiful sound the gods had ever created.

“Cas,” Dean gasped as Castiel pushed his fingers between Dean’s back and the door, dragging his fingernails up as he went.

He could not _wait_ to see his scratch marks on Dean’s flesh when he finally got the other warlock naked, the thought making him almost feral with want as he slid his mouth back up to Dean’s, claiming the other man in a savage kiss.

 _Well, you’re in a mood._ Fergus got in before Castiel slammed the connection closed, and resumed his task of licking every inch of the inside of Dean’s mouth. A mood. Yes. His mood was that he wanted to take every part of Dean and make it his.

He let out a frustrated sound and Dean wrenched his mouth away.

“ _Cas_.” He said, or more like whined, though Castiel wasn’t fool enough to point that out. “Lemme go so I can get the damn _door open_.”

Castiel drank in the sight of Dean’s face lit up by his mother moon. The man was stunning. His lips were swollen in a sinful way, and the cool light of the moon that gave Castiel his magic was bathing his already perfect skin and giving it a dairy-like quality. He looked like freckle-covered milk.

Strange. Castiel had never found dairy products sexually appealing, before. It seemed that Dean would bring out all sorts of surprising tendencies.

“Very well, Dean,” he said, stepping away from the other warlock and attempting to compose himself at least slightly. “But hurry, I find I am… impatient.”

Dean rolled his beautiful eyes and turned around, removing his keys from his pocket. “Understatement,” he replied, the bravado in his voice not hiding the sound of the keys jangling in his shaking hands.

Castiel took the moment to draw energy from his moon-mother. He felt her kissing his skin with her light and he closed his eyes and breathed her support in deeply. It both fed his hunger for Dean and calmed him, turning the frantic energy to a focused, pulsing desire that sang in his veins. He reached out with his cooling magic to soothe some of Dean’s nerves, as he reached around Dean to take the keys from his trembling hands.

Dean sighed, leaning back into Castiel’s chest, letting the younger, shorter warlock take the taisoch’s weight. Castiel felt it the moment Dean’s magic licked back at his own, the heat and cold dancing along their skin, lighting their nerves even further.

Castiel used the calm control he had found to open the door, pushing Dean inside as their Familiars followed. He reached behind himself to close the door again, never removing the front of his body from Dean’s back. They were pressed together and Dean had his head lolling lazily back onto Castiel’s shoulder, Castiel mouthing at all of the skin to which he had access.

“Bedroom,” he ordered, even as Dean’s breath hitched at the attention being paid to his neck.

“Yeah,” he whispered, throatily, the sound causing Castiel to harden even further. “This way.”

Dean broke away from Castiel reluctantly, and blindly reached to grab his hand, dragging him through the living room and up the stairs.

He opened his connection to Fergus long enough to inquire, _Will you be all right?_

 _Go on,_ Fergus replied, sarcastic fondness abounding. _The mutt and I will take care of ourselves, thanks much. Just tell purple-eyes to close his connection so his pup doesn’t decide to ruin the upholstery._

_I’ll tell him. See you in the morning._

_Bye, boss. You go have the sex, now._

It was Castiel’s turn to roll his eyes at Fergus’s antics. _Thank you, Fergus,_ he said. _Don’t you dare hurt that dog._ He didn’t allow time for the inevitable retort, simply closing their connection as he followed Dean up the stairs.

“Fergus would like me to remind you to close your Familiar connection,” he said, right into Dean’s superior posterior, which he couldn’t resist stroking gently as they reached the top of the stairs.

Dean shuddered almost violently at the touch, the sustained arousal clearly affecting him as much as it was doing the same to Castiel.

“Got it,” he replied as he led them into what was most certainly his bedroom. “You gonna fuck me now, Cas? I seem to remember hearing something about being screwed ‘til I couldn’t walk.” He was leveling Castiel with a smug look, fingers lifting the hem of his shirt so that Castiel could see a few inches of flesh peeking out, teasing him.

In one fluid movement that Fergus would most assuredly have been proud of, he pushed Dean back onto his own bed and pounced. 

~~~

Dean was lost. Completely and totally lost.

He was on his back on his memory-foam mattress, Cas on top of him, grinding their erections together like a fucking _pro_. And who would have guessed that Cas would be a goddamned _animal_ in bed?

Best. Surprise. Ever.

Dean was giving as good as he got, knowing that he hadn’t been this turned on since Benny…

Nope, not tonight. Not right now.

He growled deep in his throat at the thought, and ripped Cas’s shirt right down the middle, the buttons flying off in every direction. He wanted Cas naked, and he wanted him naked right the fuck _now._

Cas reared up off of him, discarding his ruined shirt and whipping off the undershirt as well. Dean took the opportunity to fumble his own shirt off like a teenager. It was like the piece of fabric had an evil agenda to never come off of Dean’s torso. He almost ripped the damn thing in half. He felt desperate, ravenous, in a way he hadn’t since he was much, _much_ younger.

Once the evil shirt was gone, he looked up at Cas, who was staring at him with a kind of cataloging hunger, as if he was documenting every part of Dean’s body. No one had ever looked at Dean like that, with that kind of starving intensity, not even Benny.

Enough, brain. Enough dead boyfriend for the night.

“You look upset, Dean.” Dammit, of course he noticed. They were so synced up right now, Cas would probably notice if Dean twitched his pinky toe.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, shaking the last of Benny out of his head and focusing instead on the wet dream currently sitting across his hips. “Just… c’mere.” He reached up for Cas’s arms, drawing the other man to him. Cas leaned down and took Dean’s mouth with his own as he pressed them together, heavily. Dean accepted Cas’s tongue as the other man claimed it again. Cas pulled back and then he was suddenly licking Dean’s _ear_ , of all places, and even more crazy, it was driving Dean completely insane. He heard these high-pitched, keening noises, and realized that _he_ was making them.

He would have been mortified, if he’d had any brain power that wasn’t being used to send blood to his cock or magic thrumming through his veins and onto Cas’s skin.

“Dean, I would very much like to fuck you.” The admission and unexpected curse word sent straight into Dean’s ear made him tense every muscle in his body in an effort to not come in his pants, completely untouched.

It was a close thing.

Cas’s voice was sin incarnate, dark and full of promise, and Cas’s magic was cooling Dean’s skin, just as it was twisting around his own, igniting something deep and primal and perfect that Dean had never known before.

“Yeah,” Dean’s brain was liquefied. “Yeah, Cas. Just… yeah.” Screw being eloquent, Dean gave absolutely no shits at this point.

“I assume you have lube and condoms?” Cas’s hands were starting to run down his sides, toward the button on his jeans. Dean nodded slightly, the hot breath in his ear finally stealing his voice. “Retrieve them,” Cas commanded, “I will take care of the rest.”

This time Dean full-on shuddered. He hadn’t been ordered around in so long and he’d forgotten what it felt like to really let someone else control him for a while. How fucking good it could be to just let go. Cas seemed to just _know_ what he needed, and it was so incredibly good.

He summoned his magic and focused it, proud of himself for still being able to do so. Even so, it took far more effort than it normally would have to open his bedside table and pull the lube and condoms to him.

Screw you. You try to perform summoning magic when your probably-soul-mate is taking your jeans off.

Dean threw his head back and full on moaned as Cas mouthed at the head of his dick through his boxers. He was already dripping pre-cum and he wasn’t even fully naked yet.  Part of it was the fact that his magic had shot back out to mix with Cas’s, and the combined sensations of physical and magical was so intense that Dean felt that he was coming out of his skin.

He looked down at Cas, catching the blue eyes that were half iron staring back at him as Cas sucked his cock through the sodden fabric of his boxers. Dean shuddered and moaned at the sight, reaching out with his magic to heat Cas’s skin, sending his magic to Cas’s nipples and cock, wanting to make sure that the other warlock was just as turned on as he.

Cas closed his eyes and moaned savagely, removing his mouth long enough to pull Dean’s boxers fully off and push Dean’s thighs up against his chest.

“Lube,” he ordered, the already low voice pushed to a register that resembled Baby’s purr. “And hold your legs there, Dean. Do not move them, or I will be forced to use my magic to restrain you.”

Magical restraints. Great Metallica above.  

Dean scrambled to comply, slapping the tube of lube into Cas’s outstretched hand before letting his head thunk into the pillow and curling his hands around his own hamstrings. He held himself open for Cas to do whatever he wanted, and it shouldn’t have been so easy to trust the other man with his body like this, shouldn’t feel _right_ to be this vulnerable. But it did. And Dean still had enough liquor in his veins and resolve to let go in his mind to just take the panic that arose at being so exposed and channel it into gripping his thighs to his chest even tighter.

He did, however, clench his eyes closed. Cause this was kinda high on the scary-to-mortifying scale.

The anticipation was so high that he almost jumped a foot in the air when he felt Cas’s tongue on his dick.

“Relax, Dean,” the younger man said into his skin. “I have you.” And Dean did something he never did: he let himself go, letting his muscles relax even as Cas returned his tongue to the head of his dick, sliding down until he was mouthing at Dean’s balls, rolling them around in his mouth.

Cas’s magic was running steadily up and down his body now, and Dean felt it in his very soul when Cas licked messily down his perineum and flicked his tongue against Dean’s entrance.

Dean cried out, loudly. Gods above, he loved this. He hadn’t had someone’s tongue in his ass in _forever_ , and chances were, Cas was really, _really_ good at this. He’d only known the man for something like fourteen hours (screw the math, at this point he didn’t care) but he could already tell that the other warlock didn’t do anything half-assed.

He was proved right when Cas began to lave his asshole with strong, firm licks that made Dean tremble all over, shaking right into it when Cas pressed his tongue into him, slowly, the slick appendage breaching Dean and setting every nerve in his body on fire.

“Cas,” he wheezed out, manfully. “Cas, please. _Please_.” He didn’t even know what he was begging for, but Cas seemed to, because as he continued to piston his tongue in and out of Dean’s body, Dean felt Cas’s magic push against his legs, holding him open so Dean didn’t have to. He pushed against the headboard instead, wanting to get Cas’s tongue as deep inside of him as it could go.

Yep, magical restraints. The way to go.

Cas allowed Dean to rock back and fuck himself on his tongue, and he was crying out so loudly that it might be considered screaming. His magic was going wild, and the best part was that he could _let_ it. There was no danger of raising the temperature when Cas would just lower it again. So he completely lost his mind, rutting back on Cas’s face and keeping up a steady litany of Cas’s name and swear words as the tongue inside him went deeper and deeper, fucking him open.

His body was completely eaten alive with sensation, Cas’s tongue in his ass, his teeth at the rim, his hands holding Dean’s ass open while his stubble burned into him. Dean knew that he would be marked all over the next day, and the thought made his dick throb and ooze pre-cum.

“I’m gonna… shit, gonna come, Cas.” And he was, hand on cock or no, he could feel his balls tightening just at the thought of Cas taking him this way.

In response, Cas hooked his thumbs into Dean’s hole to pull him wider, and groaned filthily into the darkest part of Dean as far as he could go before pulling back with a loud smack. His magic released and Dean’s legs fell to the bed, shaking.

Dean let out a huge sob at the break in sensation. His voice was wrecked, and he felt tears leaking out of his eyes. He was _crying_ , goddamnit, but he couldn’t fucking care right now. He was so close, so, so _close_.

He only had to wait for a split second before Cas was sliding a lubed up finger deep inside of him, stroking his prostate with alarming accuracy, his magic sliding into Dean as well, cooling the walls of his channel and making it even more intense.

“Look at me, Dean.” Cas’s voice was just as gone, probably because he’d just spent ten minutes with his tongue up Dean’s ass.

Dean broke out into hysterical laughter, and that was _it_. He was breaking so many things-Dean-Winchester-doesn’t-do rules and he couldn’t fucking stop.

“Dammit, Cas,” he wheezed, eyes still closed. Cause he couldn’t do this. Nope. No. Too much.

“Dean,” Cas’s voice was low, predatory, and his magic stroked up Dean’s face, even as he added a second finger. “ _Look at me._ You are not allowed release until you open your eyes.”

Dean took the deepest breath of his life and wrenched his eyes open, finding Cas’s eyes immediately and holding them as Cas stroked his prostate again and again with fingers and magic.

Cas’s eyes were wild, possessive, and looking at Dean with a whole new level of intensity. And how the hell was that even possible?

“Good, Dean,” he rasped, and Dean might have let out a whimper. Maybe. “Beautiful Dean, so good for me. Come. Now.” Cas teased at the slit of Dean’s cock with his cool magic and that was it, Dean was gone.

His vision turned white as he came his marrow out, screaming some bastardization of Cas’s name and feeling his own cum painting the bottom of his damn chin.

Yeah, he wasn’t giving this up. Not even if Bobby told him that Cas was a robot puppet made by Michael to come and seduce him before killing him.

He’d always liked robots, anyway.

~~~

Castiel scooped up some of the drying come on Dean’s belly, and brought it to his mouth. Dean tasted slightly bitter, a little salty, but mostly just like _Dean_ himself, so Castiel was not averse to the taste.

He coated a third finger in Dean’s seed and added it to the two already inside of Dean’s body and began stretching him in earnest. It had taken all of Castiel’s immense control to not orgasm along with Dean, but he desperately wanted to bury himself in the other man and find his release that way.

“Unnngggghhhh,” was what came out of Dean’s mouth when Castiel pushed him further back onto the bed, fingers still buried deep. He climbed on and placed himself between Dean’s thighs.

“Cas, ‘m’dead,” Dean slurred. “Y’killed me.”

“You can still form sentences, Dean, which leads me to believe that I have done nothing of the sort.” Castiel’s mouth was still tingling. He put his other hand on Dean’s soft cock, thrilling when it instantly jumped into his hand, stirring at the slightest touch. He began to stroke the other man, softly, even while he readied him to take Castiel inside.

Dean snorted, which turned into a gasp as he began to harden again.

“Dr. Castiel Novak, sex-god.” He opened his eyes and smiled lazily up at Castiel. “Who knew?” Castiel blushed a bit, completely ridiculous considering where his hands were at the moment.

“Aah gods, Cas, yeah. Like… like that.” Castiel was drunk on seeing Dean like this, open, loose. He watched his fingers disappear into Dean’s body and let out a sound suspiciously like one of Fergus’s mewls.

He needed to be inside. So badly. But for some reason he felt suddenly unsure, worried. His normal state returning even as his cock swelled almost purple, waiting for Castiel to claim this perfect man beneath him.

“Cas,” Dean’s voice broke his reverie and Castiel snapped his eyes back up to the other man’s. Dean was staring at him with want evident in his eyes that were almost completely magenta. “You like that, Cas? Like watching your fingers fuck me open? You gonna fuck me with that hot cock of yours instead? _Want_ it, Cas. Come on, fuck me. Please.”

The words shot up Cas’s spine, along with Dean’s magic, which was running hot along his already overheated skin. He slid his fingers out, shooting Dean an apologetic look when Dean let out a pained gasp at the sudden loss.

“S’okay, Cas,” he said, throwing a condom at Castiel’s head. “Just get in me, already. Hurry the fuck up.”

Castiel growled at the impertinence in Dean’s tone and ripped open the foil packet with his teeth, He slid the condom on quickly and leaned over Dean, one hand supporting his weight by Dean’s head, the other lining him up. Dean’s hands came down to open himself wide, and Cas’s breath caught at the sight of Dean’s already abused entrance, slick with spit and lube and Dean’s own ejaculate.

“Perfect,” he murmured. Unable to stop himself.

“Cas, shuddup and fu—” Castiel found the best way to shut Dean Winchester up. By pushing himself into Dean’s entrance and bottoming out in one. Slow. Thrust.

Castiel leaned down to kiss Dean’s perfect mouth, sanitation be damned to hell and back, and he moaned as he felt Dean adjust around him, bringing his legs around Castiel’s waist, the angle allowing Castiel to penetrate the other man even more deeply.

Dean groaned back into their kiss, pulling away and gasping for air as he commanded Castiel to “Move.”

Castiel latched on to Dean’s jaw as he did just that. He started a slow rhythm, holding onto Dean’s thigh for leverage as he smoothly moved in and out, changing the angle, trying to find that spot that would make Dean—

“Aaah!” Dean cried out, hands coming up to claw at Castiel’s back. “There! Fuck Cas, harder, come on, _fuck me_.”

Castiel pulled out almost completely and slammed back in, setting up a brutal pace as he battered Dean’s prostate relentlessly. He could feel his release building, and reached out with his magic, searching for Dean’s magical core.

“Come, Dean,” he said, feeling his orgasm threatening to pull him over. “Come with me.”

Right as his orgasm hit, he found Dean’s magical core and pushed his own magic into it. There was an explosion before he felt Dean’s magic enter his very soul. With the connection of their magic, he felt Dean come around his cock, hearing him scream as if from afar. Castiel let the sensation bring him over the edge as he released his seed into Dean, losing consciousness.

When he came to, his head was on Dean’s chest, and he suddenly became aware that he could still feel Dean’s magic in his veins. He gasped and pulled back to look in Dean’s eyes, which were also widened in amazement. The moment their gazes locked, Cas felt lightning zing up his entire body, and he felt connected with Dean in every way imaginable. He could feel Dean, _everywhere_ and it was indescribable.

He was still buried deep inside Dean, and their magic was swirling around them, the colors combining in a cloud of magenta and grey that surrounded the two warlocks, cocooning them.

He could feel Dean’s magic in his own magical core, and he felt whole, complete.

 _Cas_. It took Castiel a moment to realize that Dean had not spoken aloud. Instead, his voice drifted directly into Castiel’s mind.

 _Dean_ , he responded. _Gods above._

He had heard of warlocks being able to communicate telepathically before. But it was incredibly rare and had not occurred for quite some time, as far as he knew.

Dean laughed, the sound was joyful but also a little tense. Castiel could understand; if he had been concerned before… this was completely, incredibly, terrifyingly insane.

 _Guess we have more questions for Bobby now. But no worries tonight, right?_ Dean’s inner-voice was playful and happy, covering the much darker fear that Castiel knew must be present.

 _Correct,_ he responded, relieved. _But I should retrieve a towel and clean us up._

“In a minute, Cas,” Dean said aloud, running his fingers through Cas’s hair, pulling Castiel’s head back down so that it rested in the crook of his shoulder. “Stay in me a second. Just for a second.” Dean’s other arm came around to embrace Castiel, holding his smaller frame to Dean’s strong chest.

Castiel didn’t know if Dean meant physically or magically, but he ceased to care as Dean continued to rub his scalp.

 _Very well, Dean_. He responded, content. _Everything else can wait a moment._

He lied there, with Dean, and felt contentment deep in his bones. Whatever this was, it was good. He was sure of it. And as he felt Dean’s magic surround him, he realized that he would have to thank Nic profusely for coming home and starting the chain of events that had led him here, to Dean’s arms.

This was all that mattered, and everything else could wait.

Even though dried sperm was extraordinarily unpleasant to remove.

 _I can feel you thinking_ , Dean’s voice drifted to him. _Relax, Cas. Just one more minute._

He breathed out, relaxing further into Dean’s embrace.

One more minute.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions? Comments? Concerns? Lemme know!!!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	7. Up to My Neck in You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [ ](http://s558.photobucket.com/user/lennanightrun/media/CHWH.png.html)
> 
> A stolen moment before they face the music.  
> Dean never wants to go to Bobby's, 'cause then he might have to give this up.
> 
> He might also be a werewolf. Or a mermaid. 
> 
> It's been a confusing morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, GUYS. I'm so sorry. Life got completely out of control and there were so many things to do and I had to do all of them. ALL OF THE THINGS. 
> 
> I'm already writing the next chapter, will have the Bobby conversation and hopefully some Samifer. Please don't forsake me, even though I'm apparently AWFUL at updating. 
> 
> Thanks, as always, to my amazing betas, Pegasus_Eridana and LennaNightrunner. They turned this around CRAZY fast.
> 
> Now, have some smut.

Dean was having the most amazing dream.

In it, he and Cas were having sex on a dock by an endless lake; their magic shielding them from the world and nosey motherfuckers. The cool lapping of the water set up their rhythm as they rocked against each other. They were on their sides and Cas was pressed against him from shoulders to toes as he thrust lazily into Dean.

Dean could almost feel Cas’s cock in his ass, the sensation warming him to the tips of his fingers. He _definitely_ could feel Cas’s chest against his back, his arms around him.

He could actually feel that. Those _were_ Cas’s arms around him. One slung over Dean’s waist and the other threaded under his neck and reaching up to let Cas’s hand splay across his chest, he became fully awake as Cas pinched his nipple, rolling the bud between surprisingly calloused fingertips.

Oh, _fuck_ yeah. Dean had won the soul-mate lottery and he was still too far into dream land to get freaked out by the craziness of that sentence.

Dean’s eyes and mouth opened at the same time as he gasped out a breathy moan. His voice disused from sleep. He could also feel Cas’s hard cock against his ass, where Cas was lazily thrusting between his cheeks. His mouth felt cottony and his head was heavy with sleep, but his dick was clearly on board; rock hard where Cas teased it every so often, his hand flicking feather-light touches over the crown, before retreating to stroke his stomach and hip-bones.

“ _Cas_ ,” Dean moaned, waking up enough to start to push back against Cas, one arm reaching behind him to tangle in Cas’s hair as he turned his head for a kiss. It was sloppy and full of morning breath and fucking _awesome_.

He was turning into such a goddamned _girl_. He couldn’t even help the whine that escaped his throat when Cas broke off the kiss.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said. And damn if that voice didn’t get even raspier when it was straight out of sleep.

Dean shivered a little at the sound, which turned into a full-body shudder when he felt Cas’s magic still running along his own in his veins. Christ, but that was a weird and fucking-awesome feeling. It was better than any high he’d ever had, and more addictive, too.

_Hey, Cas_ , he said in his mind. He thought the words as loudly and with as much force as he could, wanting to test their connection.

He heard Cas gasp behind him, and grinned in return. The little ball of fear in his heart was threatening to expand, but he shut it off.

_I know it’s technically tomorrow,_ he thought, instead. _But how about we not worry just yet._

“I am… _amenable_ to that,” Cas responded, punctuating his agreement with a strong roll of his hips. Dean’s brain shorted out a bit, and then he full on moaned when Cas hoisted his leg up and back so that it was resting on top of Cas’s legs. In this position, Dean could feel his hole exposed, still swollen and raw from the night before. But the surge of want he felt at the thought of Cas fucking into him again trumped his soreness, and he opened his legs as much as he could.

It was beyond nuts how much he wanted Cas inside him. But that seemed to be the theme of the past twenty-four hours.

Twenty-four hours. Christ. He hadn’t even _met_ Castiel Novak this time yesterday. This time yesterday, Dean had still thought he was a threat, still thought he was a _Shurley._ A lot really could happen in a day, it seemed.

Dean shifted as Cas pulled his arm out from under Dean’s neck and rummaged around under the pillow until he found a bottle of lube that he must have stashed there. The dog.

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you, Cas?” Dean didn’t even try to keep the amusement or the fondness out of his voice.

Yep. He was done for. A goner. Stick a fork in him. All that stuff.

“I thought it would be prudent,” Cas responded, his mouth against Dean’s ear. “Though the application might be a little tricky.” He laughed, and then mouthed softly at Dean’s ear, making Dean a little dizzy.

And now he’s a fainting damsel. Great.

“You’re no such thing,” Cas said, his voice reaching pornographic lows as he gripped Dean’s cock firmly in his hand. “This would attest to that.”

Dean bucked up into Cas’s hand, turning his head again to claim Cas’s mouth with his own.

_God, Cas,_ he thought. _Your Goddamned_ voice.

_Why do you think I have answered you aloud this whole time?_ Cas asked, cheekily, biting into Dean’s lower lip.

_Sneaky bastard_. Dean sucked Cas’s tongue into his mouth, loving how Cas shuddered when he stroked his teeth along the slick muscle. Cas’s hand tightened around Dean’s dick and thrust his own against Dean’s hole and they groaned together. Dean wrenched his mouth away, overcome with sensation.

“Cas, a—ah! Stop teasing me you fucker, and fuck me already.” His head was swimming in it. Cas’s magic, Cas’s hands, Cas’s damn _dick_ for fuck’s sake.

All he could think about was Cas, and that was one hundred percent _fine_ with him.

“Mmmmm,” Cas rumbled, pulling back far enough to get his hand between their bodies and tease two lubed-up fingers against Dean’s hole. “Forgive me, Dean,” he said, voice laced with teasing, “but you are distracting, and _intoxicating_.” He slid his two fingers into Dean, who shamelessly ground back against them.

He was a little sore, but Cas’s mouth teasing biting kisses along his back and the man’s voice were making him completely feral with want.

Dammit, Winchester. You’re a warlock, not a werewolf.

Cas snorted a laugh against his back, fingers scissoring and twisting inside of him. Great, just great. Now he had a witness to his crazy internal monologue. Fantastic.

Dean’s thoughts were cut short when Cas twisted his fingers roughly, finding his prostate and massaging it relentlessly. Fuck.

“ _Fuuuuuuck_!” The word was a bellow in his mind and a whine in his throat.

“You are thinking far too much,” Cas said, the savagery in his voice wiping Dean’s mind.

Right. Sex. With Cas. Yes.

He gave in to the sensation, trying not to be mortified at the high, keening noises making their way out of his mouth. Sure he was a warlock, but he could be a werewolf and a princess, too. ’Cause reasons. And logic. And oh holy hell, Cas’s fingers.

Literally nothing mattered when Cas was working him open, getting him ready to take Cas’s cock inside.

The thought had Dean panting, reaching around to push Cas’s hand away, scooting back to get closer to the other warlock’s dick.

“In me,” he demanded, voice full of authority, even while it shook. “Now.”

Dean smiled when Cas let out an embarrassing noise of his own, then shivered with anticipation when he heard Cas ripping the condom wrapper open, letting out a laugh when Cas swore as he fumbled to put it on.

“Need some help, Cas?” The laugh died suddenly when Cas pushed against him with his magic, restraining him once again.

“You stay exactly where you are,” the other man growled.

Werewolves. Seriously. They were turning into fucking werewolves.

“Got it,” Dean replied, breathlessly, sighing when he heard Cas lubing himself up and then finally, _fucking finally_ , pressing against Dean’s hole.  

Dean groaned filthily at the feel of Cas’s dick against his opening. “Let me move, man,” he pleaded.

Cas let up on his magic enough for Dean to press against him, their bodies locked tight from shoulder to knee. Cas wrapped his right hand under Dean’s neck and around his chest again, and used the other to grip Dean’s ass and hold it open as he thrust slowly, perfectly, into place.

When Cas bottomed out, Dean could feel him _everywhere_. Their magic was churning in his veins, in his core. The heat and cold combining and filling him with power. He let a burst of it out, painting the room magenta and grey as he twisted his head back to kiss Cas sloppily.

They were joined in every way possible, and he felt like Cas was trying to burrow under his skin, and he was doing the same. He just wanted to be a _part_ of the younger man, the same magic, same blood, same bone, same sinew.

Fucking hell, he wanted Cas everywhere. And he didn’t even know what the _fuck_ that meant.

Gods above, this was terrifying.

“Cas,” he moaned, closing his eyes against the panic that was seriously threatening to overwhelm him right now. “Cas, I—”

Except Cas picked that exact moment to begin thrusting lazily into Dean. Dean’s breath hitched and he let Cas’s magic and the pleasure lighting up his body relax his panicking mind.

Fuck it. Literally. He couldn’t really focus on anything but Cas right now anyway.

Cas nuzzled his ear and rumbled, “It’s okay, Dean. I have you.”

He repeated it when Dean started to beg him to speed up, to touch him, _anything_ , because it seemed that Cas was a torturing _bastard_ that liked denying release.

He repeated it when Dean’s magic threatened to spill over, his admirable control being tried by not being fucking _allowed_ to orgasm.

He repeated it when Dean started to tremble all over from the intensity, though he would punch Cas in the face if he told _anyone_. Dean Winchester does not fucking _tremble_.

“I have you,” Cas said. “It’s okay, Dean. I have you.” Over and over again.

And as they rocked slowly, sweetly, sweatily together, not chasing their orgasms, but welcoming them, Dean began to believe it.

Maybe his shitty-ass track record was coming to a close. Maybe karma was finally getting him back for all the shit he’d experienced. Maybe he fucking _deserved_ this.

Maybe he didn’t want to be alone anymore.

He let Cas hear that thought, and Cas rewarded him with thrusts that grazed his prostate on every pass. Their fucking was just as intense as last night, but not as wild, not as crazy.

He was never gonna get sick of this.

This time, when he came, it wasn’t frantic, but more like a wave washing over him. He was saying Cas’s name both in his head and out loud, and he didn’t even tense when he felt his orgasm spill out over his dick and stomach.

He felt warm and pliant and _calm_ while Cas finished just as peacefully. Rolling into Dean and coming quietly. The only tense thing about him was his right arm where it had wrapped all the way around Dean’s chest. His right hand gripped Dean’s left shoulder hard enough to bruise.

_Harder_ , Dean thought, lazily, liking the idea of Cas’s handprint on him. Marking him. Cas squeezed tighter and Dean sent his magic to the spot, sealing in the mark with his heat as he rode the waves of pleasure with his Prince Eric.

Disney characters and werewolves. Definitely.

Fuck it. Call him Ariel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Concerns? Kudos? I LOVE THEM ALL. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. For realsies, babes.

**Author's Note:**

> *àrsadh caithris means “age night-watch” in Irish Gaelic.
> 
> Reviewing is good karma.  
> Kudos also make me smile.


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